


The Night Will Always Win

by betweenfactandbreakfast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1970s, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Multi, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-11-04 10:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 89,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17897171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenfactandbreakfast/pseuds/betweenfactandbreakfast
Summary: Lily, Severus, and the Marauders have only just started their fifth and most turbulent year so far at Hogwarts. War is blowing on the wind, and friendships will be put to the test as the Wizarding World starts crumbling around them...





	1. Dreams & Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my new WIP. This was originally planned as a TV series, but I thought I would adapt it from the script so that I could share it more easily. That being said, if anyone wants to see the original screenplays, please message me! I have up to episode 11 written. You might notice that the style of this fic reflects its original format at times!
> 
> This story starts in fifth year and will continue until after Hogwarts during the war. I want to be as true to canon and as faithful to the characters and the time period as possible. And as a side note, this is just as much a story about Severus Snape and his descent into darkness as it is about the Marauders/Lily. Even after SWM we'll continue seeing his perspective on the Death Eater side of things.
> 
> Anyway that's all, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

_ PART ONE_

_"Did you trust your noble dreams_  
_And gentle expectations_  
_To the mercy of the night?_  
_The night will always win"_

* * *

The world is dark, he can perceive nothing but a sharp metallic taste in his mouth and pounding in his ears.

Slowly, the boy opens his eyes, and his dilapidated surroundings come slowly into focus— shredded furniture, boarded-up windows. Slowly, he becomes aware of his arms, legs— and the dull, throbbing, debilitating pain that permeates every inch of his being.

He’s slumped against a wall, in bad shape: naked, bruised, scraped; dried mucus, blood, saliva, vomit cake his face, crust in his hair. His face is marred with old scars as well as fresher, still-open wounds. Blood spatters darken the walls behind him. There are deep, deep shadows under his eyes. He just stares forward, taking ragged breath. As his breaths grow slower and steadier, he pushes himself a bit further upright.

Suddenly, he leans violently sideways to vomit onto the floor beside him. He straightens up, wipes a shaking hand over his mouth, mumbles a curse word.

He lurches down onto all fours and begins to crawl forwards. He looks down at his hands and suddenly they’re huge and clawed and scrabbling at the peeling floorboards- a split second, later they’re human hands again. He teeters to the right, but regains balance, continues crawling until he reaches a pile of bricks. He lifts them aside, pulls from underneath a blanket, which he wraps around himself.

Remus waits, shivering.

* * *

It’s morning, so early that there’s still dew sparkling on the smooth grass of the pitch and still mist clinging to the stands and the gold hoops towering at either end. The castle is visible in the distance, lit by the start of the sunrise.

A boy on a broomstick zooms onto the field; he lands on the grass, dismounts, red robes fluttering in the breeze. He’s a teenage boy with messy dark hair, square spectacles, and a bright scarlet Quaffle tucked under one arm. This is James Potter, a fifth-year Gryffindor. He breathes in the morning air, grins confidently, turns on his heel. On the back of his robes the word "POTTER" and a number 3 are emblazoned in gold.

James, who tosses the Quaffle up toward the sky- he looks up, following its progress, then catches it easily in front of his face. He grins, triumphant.

“Potter’s gone mad,” says Marlene McKinnon.

An assortment of sleepy-looking people— most in regular black school robes or muggle sports clothes— are gathered in the locker room. 

A group of three students wearing red Quidditch robes sits apart from everyone else.

“Honestly, I think he’s gone mental.” Marlene says again to her fellows. She’s a tall blonde fifth-year, and perhaps the only one in the locker room that doesn't look tired. On the contrary, she appears wide awake and energetic.

Benjy Fenwick, bleary-eyed, nods in agreement. “He’s always been a nutter about Quidditch.”

Dirk Cresswell rubs vigourously at his eyes. “It’s five-thirty, _five-thirty_. Who schedules tryouts at fucking _five-thirty_ , I ask you.”

“James Potter, apparently.” Grumbles Fenwick. “Mad bastard. Knew I should’ve been Captain.”

“Potter’s the best on the team,” Marlene says. “Better than even you, Fenwick. He had it in the bag after the final last year.”

Fenwick grunts “Yeah, maybe, but he's an absolute nutter.”

“This is inhuman,” says Cresswell. “It’s a violation of rights.”

Marlene shrugs. “I’m feeling alright myself. I’ve done a few Boosting charms though... I didn’t even go to bed last night.”

The doors of the locker room suddenly open and daylight streams in, along with James Potter. Everyone perks up at once.

James looks them over with a steely eye, measuring them up. “Alright, you lot. Out you get. Single file. McKinnon, Cresswell, Fenwick, you’re first up seeing as how you’ve already got a general idea of how this works—”

People start to rise and line up, Fenwick in the lead.

“A _general_ idea? I’ve been here longer than you have, Potter.”

“Oh, leave it out, Fenwick.”

James stands aside and people start to file out of the door, looking over each person over critically as they pass. Marlene sticks her tongue out at him, and he shoves her playfully through the doorway. After the last person has exited the locker room, James himself exits, pulling the door closed behind him and turning to the hopefuls.

“Alright, everybody listen closely! My name is James Potter, for those of you who don’t already know me. I’m captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year, and this—” He pauses for dramatic effect, scanning the crowd. The younger students eye him nervously “—is tryouts.”

There’s applause from some of the younger hopefuls, quickly silenced by a glare from the captain.

“This is my first year as your captain, fourth year on the team. You’re probably all wondering why tryouts are being held so early—”

A murmur indicates that everybody was, in fact, wondering this.

“Right, well, I can answer that one for you right now. The way I see it, if you’re dedicated enough to get up at this hour just to try out, then you might just be dedicated enough to be on my team.”

He lets this settle over them.

Cresswell whispers to Marlene and Fenwick: “Mental.”

“I heard that, Cresswell. I’m going to be harsh during these tryouts, and on the off-chance you actually do make it onto the team, I’m going to work you hard. So if you’re not absolutely certain you want this, you might as well leave right now.”

He raises his eyebrows— a challenge. Marlene pretends to storm off. Nobody else moves.

James frowns. “Stop wanking around, McKinnon. And careful with those Boosting Charms.”

Marlene feigns innocence. “Sorry, what?”

He gives her a look, but says nothing else. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

James reaches for his broomstick. He pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Let’s get started then.”

* * *

The curtains are closed over the windows of the fifth-year girls dormitory, and darkness still clings to the four-poster beds. One is empty, three are filled with sleeping girls, and the last one contains Lily Evans, who is just sitting up.

Lily is a pretty girl with very long red hair and very distinctive green eyes. At the moment, she looks a bit sniffly, a bit sickly and rather sleepy.

Lily hugs her knees to her chest and takes a deep breath. Finally, she crawls to the edge of the bed, pulls on her dressing gown and steps into her slippers.

“Mary?” She calls softly at the bed next to her.

No response but a mumble from Mary, who is buried deep in her red duvet. Only a small slice of her face is visible.

“Mare, I’m going ‘round the hospital wing.”

Mary opens one eye but doesn’t move from her comfortable surroundings. “Sick or summing?”

“I feel rubbish... I’m going for some potion.”

“Mm. Well alright. Try not to wake me up again, will you.”

She rolls over and instantly falls asleep again. Lily stands, shivering, hugging herself to keep warm. She grabs her wand from the dresser. She stops for a moment, picks up a framed picture and regards it.

It’s an old, moving photograph of two kids on a roundabout, laughing in eternal merriment.

Lily smiles a little. She sets it down.

* * *

The sunrise knifes in through the tall, grimy windows that line the corridor. At the far end, a giant pendulum swings rhythmically past the wooden beams of the clock tower.

Remus and a young healer, Madam Pomfrey, hurry towards the hospital wing. She’s supporting him, and there are bits of vomit on her apron. Remus looks close to death, barely conscious as he stumbles forward.

With a wave of her wand, the grand wooden doors open into a long, airy room containing two rows of hospital beds all immaculately wrapped in sterile white sheets.

Remus stumbles a bit but manages to reach the nearest bed. Pomfrey draws the hangings around his bed, stands back. She sighs, powerless to help her most difficult patient.

 “Oh— morning Madam Pomfrey.”

Startled, Madam Pomfrey turns and sees Lily Evans entering the ward. Her eyes flicker to Remus’s bed and away.

“Oh, Miss Evans, good morning—”

“Sorry it’s so early, I wasn’t feeling too well, see, and—”

“Alright, alright, have a lie down and I’ll be out in a bit with a restorative.”

She ushers Lily to next unoccupied bed. Lily sits on the edge, still shivering, kicking her feet back and forth as Madame Pomfrey bustles away to her office.

Remus coughs. Lily looks up at his bed, curious despite herself. She hadn’t realised anyone else was here.

Pomfrey returns, bearing all sorts of bottles, jars, and bandages.

“Lie down, lie down!”

Lily lies down. Madame Pomfrey disappears behind Remus’s curtain.

Lily sits up again.

She eyes the curtain, tempting in its mystery. The figure of Madam Pomfrey is visible moving around inside, and Lily can just make out her voice muttering a healing spell. Finally, Pomfrey begins to back out of the curtain— Lily quickly lies down again.

“...particularly bad this time, looks like.” Pomfrey is saying to her mysterious patient.

The curtains are closed before Lily can see anything.

Madame Pomfrey sighs and turns around, spotting Lily and remembering that she’s there.

“Oh, what did you need again?”

“Pepperup, I’m not feeling well—”

“There should be some in the cabinet over there.” She raises her voice significantly. “I’ll be in my office, give a shout if you need me.”

“Alright, thanks.” Lily says. She goes to the cabinet and selects a potion bottle. She unstoppers it and returns to her bed to drink it. She swallows it in one gulp— her face grows very hot, and steam curls out from beneath her hair. Then it fades and Lily, feeling quite peppered-up, sets the empty bottle on the bedside table.

The other patient coughs again. Curiosity gets the better of Lily; she stands up, slowly approaches the hangings, extends a hand to pull them aside—

Footsteps echo in the outside hallway and Lily quickly returns to her bed. Lily can’t see who it is around the curtains. The footsteps stop. There’s a rustle of fabric and voices.

“Fuck sakes Peter, it’s not going to wrinkle, is it. We don’t need to fold it— give it here.”

“Fine, you bloody do it then.”

“I _will_ do it then.”

“If it wrinkles James is going to be angry.”

“For the last time, Peter, the cloak doesn’t wrinkle.”

Lily purses her lips. She knows those voices. She straightens out her robes and goes around to confront them.

Sirius Black has just managed to stow something out of sight when he looks up and catches sight of Lily.

“Evans!" He says, casually. "What are you doing here?”

Peter Pettigrew, beside him, throws a nervous glance toward the occupied bed.

“What are _you_ lot doing here?”

“I asked first.”

“I'm sick. This is the hospital wing, isn't it?”

Sirius looks around, grins lazily. “S'pose it is.”

“So, what are you lot up to?”

“Not up to anything. Just fancied a walk is all.”

“Oh yeah, at six in the morning, that's convincing. What is it really?”

He shrugs. “Can’t curse a man for a crime he hasn’t committed yet.”

“Too bad for me, right?”

Sirius laughs easily, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “Right.”

“Where’s Potter, anyway? He can't be far away.”

“He’s at Quidditch tryouts,” says Peter.

“Run along and see for yourself if you like,” says Sirius.

Lily crosses her arms. “That’s alright. I’m staying.”

“Looks like we’ll all be here a while then.”

He sits down crosslegged on the floor, motioning for Peter to join him. Lily remains standing, stiff.

“Haven’t seen Remus in a while,” she comments.

“No, you wouldn’t have. He’s off in Wales, visiting his mum.”

“Oh, that’s right. Poor Remus. Must be awful, I can’t imagine.”

“No, you really can’t.” Sirius says coldly.

Lily doesn’t quite know what to say to that. Finally, she sits.

A few awkward beats pass between them as they all suddenly realise that they have very little in common. Peter fiddles with his shoelaces, retying and untying them.

“Well, isn’t this cheery.” Sirius remarks, fishing around in his pockets. He retrieves a mangled packet of cigarettes from his pocket and sticks one in his mouth. “Tryouts are taking bloody forever, aren’t they? James should be here by now.”

Peter shrugs. “Must have a tough lot this year.”

“Either that or he’s wasting time showing off,” says Lily.

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter. “James doesn’t need to show off at Quidditch. He’s good enough on his own.”

“Being good at sports doesn’t give him the right to swagger around the place like he owns it.”

“And being a sanctimonious virgin doesn’t give you the right to act so bloody superior either, but here you still are, aren’t you.”

Peter laughs, and Lily stiffens, turning red despite herself. If Potter could be mean, Sirius Black could be downright cruel at times.

“You’re a right bastard, you know that?”

Sirius doesn’t answer, attention suddenly diverted somewhere behind her. His entire expression seems to change, cracking into a wide grin.

“This seems cozy, mind if I join in?”

Lily twists around to see that James Potter has just entered the Hospital Wing, still in Quidditch gear and a bit muddy and sweaty. He pulls off his gloves and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Budge up a bit Pete,” says Sirius. “How was tryouts?”

Peter and Sirius move to allow James to sit down heavily.

“Bloody appalling is what. I’m exhausted, don’t mind telling you. I could use a smoke. Have you got one?”

Sirius hands him one, lights it with the tip of his wand.

“Did you lot just come here for a smoke?”

James looks around at her. “Sorry, what is she doing here?”

Lily glares at him. “ _She_ was feeling sick. Rumour has it this is the place for that kind of thing.”

He snickers. “Let me guess... time of the month?

“She wouldn’t be the only one, would she.” Says Sirius, a smug inside joke that Lily doesn’t comprehend.

He and Peter laugh, but James is eyeing Lily for a reaction. She won’t rise to his needling.

“You’re so immature.”

“Yeah, but it just adds to my boyish charm though, doesn't it.”

“Oh, yeah, it'd be a big surprise if you had any in the first place.”

“Well I'm full of surprises once you get to know me, Evans.”

He looks at her, full of _something_ , and she has to avert her gaze. She’s glad when Peter interrupts and diverts his attention.

“So what happened at tryouts then?

James heaves a sigh. “All kinds. I filled every position in the end, but most of the prats who showed up hardly knew one end of a broomstick from the other. Had to send some of the second years home crying their bloody eyes out. You’d think there’d be at least a couple who were competent at least.”

“They can’t all be as good as you, mate.”

“Unfortunately, true.”

Lily snorts. “You’ve no shame at all, have you?”

He shrugs, utterly confident. “Nah not really. What’s the point?

She rolls her eyes in disbelief. “Did Marlene make it back on the team at least?”

“Yeah, of course, she's bloody amazing. Though were I you, I’d wait 'till she sleeps it off to tell her.”

“Sleeps what off?”

“Bit of a junkie, your friend, isn’t she?”

Lily opens her mouth, confused.

“Fit though,” remarks Sirius

Lily looks at him in disgust. James snorts.

“What?”

“Oh, leave it out.” Says James

“You don’t think she likes me?”

“Would hardly be surprising,” interjects Lily.

Sirius glares at her. “Was I asking you? What is it, James?

James heaves a sigh. “You’re not her type. And she’s not yours, is she.”

Lily has a distinct feeling that there’s meaning behind that statement, but Sirius brushes it off.

“Don’t know what you’re on about.”

James rolls his eyes. “Yeah, alright.”

Remus coughs again. They all turn in his direction.

“Why don’t you trot along then, Evans.” Sirius says. “That poor sod probably needs his rest.”

“After you,” she returns.

"Evans here doesn't trust us not to cause mischief," Sirius says with a snort.

“If we leave, you’ll leave, right?” Says James.

“I suppose.” Says Lily.

James looks around at his friends, nods. “Alright then lads, let’s go.”

“But—” Peter begins.

“Come on then, Peter.”

They troop out, leaving Lily to once again contemplate the curtains drawn around the mysterious patient. She looks down the hallway— Potter and his friends have disappeared. Lily bites her lip. Really, she thinks, it’s none of her business. She shakes her head, and leaves the hospital wing.

A second after she’s gone, James flings the cloak away from them, where they’d been pressed together into the corner of the room.

“Hiding under the cloak was a lot easier when we were smaller,” remarks Sirius.

James pulls back the hangings slightly so they can enter one by one. Remus is awake but looking drained. They sit on the chairs around him.

When Remus speaks, his voice is hoarse and cracked. “Morning all. Lily’s gone?”

James pours him a glass of water, which he gulps eagerly.

Sirius reaches in his pocket and pulls out a folded parchment. He taps it with his wand.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he says in a bored tone. “Merlin, I wish we’d chosen something shorter. And maybe we ought to redo some of the charms...”

Ink blooms out from Sirius’s wand tip, curling into an elegant script which proclaims simply ‘The Marauders’ Map’.  Sirius opens it up. revealing an intricately detailed map of Hogwarts. Labelled dots move around its halls and corridors.

“Yeah I reckon the cover looks a bit bare as well.”  James muses.

Sirius squints at it, searching. Finally, he spots a dot marked Lily Evans, heading rapidly down a corridor towards the common room.

“Look, there she goes. That’s a relief. I thought she’d never leave, nosy bint.”

“She's not bad as all that,” says Remus.

“Well, she was about a second away from opening your curtain and having a shufti at your mutilated body.” Sirius says, leaning back in his chair.  “We would’ve stopped her, of course.”

Remus looks down at his bandaged hands.

“How're you feeling, Moony?” Peter asks.

Remus smiles weakly. “Bit sore. My head's like to split open as anything, but alright otherwise.”

They exchange sympathetic glances. Remus is clearly still far from alright, but he’s putting on a good show for the sake of his friends.

“Wish you didn’t have to go through all this on your own. As soon as we figure this spell out it’ll be easier.”

Remus sits up, despite the pain this causes. “Thought you said that was off."

James looks down.

"Merlin's sakes, James, you all nearly died last time you tried it. I won't let you risk yourselves."

"Well, that's not entirely up to you." Sirius says with a huge yawn, tilting his chair back.

"I've really got it figured out this time," James says. He's so earnest, so intent, so _James_. Remus wants to believe him, he wants to hope. "Besides, it's worth the risk. You're worth the risk. Isn't he?"

"Absolutely," Peter says without hesitation. Remus has to turn his head away from them.

"I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you because of me. You— you told me you'd given up."

James gives him a wonky smile. “Do I ever give anything up?”

He leans forward, utterly determined. Remus sighs, knowing he has no choice but to give in.

"Never," says Sirius. "Come on, Moony, you know what a stubborn bastard he is."

"I'm just willing to do whatever it takes," James pushes his glasses further up his nose. "It's been a year. I've been working hard on this, researching and all that, and- I just need a bit more time. I wouldn't be saying anything if I weren't absolutely certain-"

"Alright then." Remus surprises even himself with the rapidity of his answer- yes, this is his weakness, his great selfishness. As much as he cares for his friends, as much as he tries to insist, he wants this. In truth, James hardly needed to convince him.

Ashamed, Remus plays with the edge of his bedsheet.

James is grinning. Remus hates himself. James, he thinks, knows nothing. He understands nothing. He's too good for the likes of me. They all are. 

 "Really? You mean it?"

Remus sighs. "Yeah. Just be careful, alright?"

"Oh, You know me, Moony."

"That's the trouble."

They laugh, and so does Remus, though it's physically painful to do so, though he feels as though nothing could be less funny. He's a traitor in their midst, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

James claps a hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Remus."

"I'm not worried," Remus says, brightly. "Honest."

Sirius snorts. Remus knows that he knows. He can never fool Sirius, a fact which irritates him somewhat. Sirius has a way of seeing right through you.

"It'll be fine." Peter says. Poor little Peter. If he ought to worry about anyone, it's Peter. James and Sirius can handle complex spellwork, but Peter barely scrapes by.

Remus nods. "Yeah," he says.

“More than fine,” Sirius says, with an almost dreamy look in his eye. “It’ll be brilliant. The four of us, marauding the grounds on full moon. We can go anywhere. Do whatever we want.”

Remus chews his lip. “Not whatever we want. You have to keep me under control.” 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course we will.” Sirius waves a hand, as if Remus’s concern is of little consequence. “You worry too much, Moony.”

Remus says nothing, the same old bitterness stirring in his gut. Sirius, he thinks, has absolutely no idea. 

"Well, you don’t have to." James presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ve got this in the bag.”

Remus looks at him, at his best friend, at the boy who saved him and has saved him many times over. He feels with a sinking certainty that he will be James's downfall. He could say something, he could stop them. He considers, for a moment, the prefect's badge sitting on his dormitory dresser next to his folded robes. He could report them. He could do the right thing.

He grins weakly. "Stubborn bastard."

They laugh, and Remus does too, trying to ignore the pain in his side, trying to keep them from noticing.

* * *

“It’s not because your father’s a muggle is it?” Says Preston Avery.

That question, Severus thinks, is the one that he’s been asking himself from the beginning. “I said, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“She’s not bad looking, I s’pose. For a mudblood and all. You know what they say, don’t you?”

Severus’ reply is curt. “No.”

Avery snickers, an unpleasant preamble to his unpleasant jokes. “When it comes down to it, Mudblood fanny is just the same as the rest of it, isn’t it? You just have to wash afterwards.”

He laughs. Severus doesn’t.

Avery sees this and frowns. “Lighten up, will you Snape, you’re starting to depress me.”

“Well excuse me for not sharing your nasty sense of humour.”

“It’s just a laugh.”

Severus doesn’t reply as they enter into the Great Hall. It’s still fairly early in the morning, and there are few students eating breakfast.

Severus and Avery head toward the Slytherin table, where a small knot of students are concentrated at the end, deep in conversation.

One of them notices them, looks up.

“Preston, Severus.” Evelyn Mulciber greets them silkily. “Have a seat, will you boys, we were just discussing politics.”

They sit.

“That right?” Says Severus. He doesn’t know anyone as politically savvy as Mulciber— the older boy has power and connections the rest of the table can only dream of. There’s a reason, thinks Severus, that he is the unspoken ringleader of this little group.

Mulciber eyes him. “It is. As the resident half-blood perhaps you’ve a refreshing perspective to offer us.”

Severus doesn’t say anything, only stares very hard at the table. But Avery, surprisingly, leaps to his defence. “Come off it, Mulciber. He can’t exactly help his father being a muggle.”

“Quite right, Preston. But he can help his associations, can’t he?”

“How _is_ your little friend, Severus?” Wilkes snickers. A shiny prefect badge glimmers on the robes of Devereux Wilkes, their fellow fifth-year. Of everyone at the table, Wilkes is the least interesting; Severus has a special disdain for his smarmy, pompous attitude and the way he’s always sucking up to Mulciber.

“Who?”

“Lily Evans. You are friends, aren’t you?”

Severus shrugs this off, uncomfortable. “We were friends when we were kids, that’s all.”

“Snape here just wants to shag her,” says Avery. The other Slytherins laugh.

“Well, no harm in getting your hands dirty once in a while,” says Mulciber. “So long as you wash, mind.”

More laughter. Severus forces out a little chuckle. It’s far from funny, but he wants badly to be accepted by this group. His fledgling friendship with them is tenuous at best, and the differences between he and they are already staggeringly clear.

“What’s stopping you then, Snape?” Asks Wilkes.

“Well...”

“I saw her clinging all over you just the other day,” Avery snickers. “Practically begging for it if you ask me.”

Severus is almost embarrassed by the flicker of hope this gives him. “Really?”

“Enough about Snape’s Mudblood whore.” Evan Rosier, Mulciber’s right hand man. If Mulciber is all charm and subtlety, Rosier is the exact opposite: huge, prone to violence, and absolutely terrifying. “Can we return to the matter at hand?”

“Evan here was just saying we should do something about her kind.”

Severus isn’t keen on the sound of this. “Do something? What like?”

Rosier sneers. “We need to show them the Wizarding World still belongs to the true Wizards. They’re getting too big for their britches.”

“I’ll say.” Nicola Selwyn speaks up for the first time. Severus isn’t too keen on her either. She’s arrogant, snobby, and too good to give him the time of day. He can’t stand girls who know they’re beautiful and act like it. She’s nothing like Lily.

“We ought to do something big,” Mulciber is saying.

“Won’t we get in trouble for it?” Wilkes says. Severus smirks to himself. Wilkes is a coward.

“What does it matter?” Mulciber replies impatiently. “Even little Regulus here’s not afraid of getting in a few scraps. Isn’t that right, Regulus?”

Regulus nods slowly. In demeanour, he is the opposite of his brother, although they look very similar. Severus doesn’t mind him, but they’ve never spoken much.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Says Regulus.

“You don’t want to be shown up by a thirteen-year-old, now do you, Wilkes.” Mulciber says. “Besides, you don’t have to worry. My father’s got favour where it counts.”

Corrin Shea leans forward. “How does that help the rest of us exactly?” Shea is pale and pretentious, and practically glued to Nicola Selwyn’s side. Severus cottoned on pretty quickly that these two have some sort of strange relationship, impenetrable to outsiders.

“My father’s got friends who share our point of view, friends in high places”

“Higher than Dumbledore?

Mulciber grins conspiratorially. “Higher than the bloody Ministry of Magic I’ll wager. The way of the world is changing, my friends, and you’d all be wise to show which side you’re on soon as possible.

“What side is that?”

“Come on now, Corrin. Certain select parties which have an interest in influencing matters within Hogwarts... I rather think I shouldn’t have to tell you to whom I’m referring.”

Shea scoffs. “And why should they care about what happens to us?”

Mulciber looks slightly annoyed, then brushes it off. “Loyalty’s valuable to them. Having agents within the school, I should think... to work from the inside, close to Dumbledore. I’d wager they’d find something like that useful... I mean, for starters, look at the state of this place... filth, everywhere...”

He stops as he sees something, eyes trailing upwards. Severus turns.

Lily Evans is standing behind him. _Shit_.

Mulciber leers at her. “Speaking of filth...”

“Get stuffed, Mulciber. Sev, you coming? We’ve got that potions essay we said we’d look over before class-“

Severus glances nervously at all his companions. _Why now? This is so embarrassing._ They are all eyeing him beadily, and he wants to melt into the floor.

“Er, can’t it wait a bit, Lily?”

Lily purses her lips. “Potions is our first class, Sev, we had better get this done. Are you coming or what?”

“Oh, right. Alright, let’s go.”

He begins to stand, but Mulciber grabs his arm.

“A thought, Severus— times are changing. Sides will have to be picked soon enough... loyalties will be tested, you hear me?”

Snape can’t do anything but nod.

“Yeah, well, a _thought_ , Mulciber— bullies always get what’s coming to them.” Lily retorts.

Mulciber barely glances up at her. He lets go and Severus stands up. Lily takes his arm, not noticing Severus’s nervous glance towards it, and drags him toward the Gryffindor table.

“He’s horrible, he is. Don’t know how you stand any of them to be honest, but the way Mulciber goes on sometimes... I don’t know but it scares me something awful.”

Severus is quick to reply, almost automatic. “It’s all a bunch of rubbish, what he says. He doesn’t mean it.”

“Oh I know it is. Mulciber’s all talk, but he gives me a bad feeling, that’s all. They all do. Why you’re friends with them, I don’t know.”

“Most of them aren’t all that bad really, they just go along with whatever Mulciber says.” He catches her disbelieving look. “Honest!”

“I s’pose, if you say so... well, just as long as you aren’t getting mixed up in any of it.”

“’Course not.” Severus says.

“Good then.”

Lily sits down at the Gryffindor table and Sev sits next to her. She pulls a roll of parchment, quill and ink, and a book from her bag and spreads it out on the table as she talks.

“I’ve double-checked my essay with Advanced Potion Making, but we all know that book is utter rubbish, of course.”

Severus chuckles grateful for the change of subject. “I reckon Slughorn only assigns it because he’s good mates with the author.

“Typical Slughorn.”

“Here, I’ll take a look at your essay if you like, see if you—"

“What’s he doing here? He’ll get grease all over the food, and me trying for a low-fat diet and all—"

Severus flushes at the sound of that voice, hated above all others… James Potter has plopped down across from the two of them.

Lily scowls. “Do us a favour, Potter, shove off.”

But Sirius Black sits down next to his friend, lazy smile on his face as he contemplates them.

“It’s the slimeball who’s pushing in where he’s not wanted. Last time I checked this was our table, not his. Ugly loser table’s over there.”

Lily looks stormy. Sev can’t react, staring at the ground with his fists balled up at his sides. _They’re only words_. Why do they affect him so much?

Lily stands, defiant. “C’mon Sev, I’m not very hungry all of a sudden. We’ll try the library, shall we.”

 Sirius mocks her. “Ooh, we’ll try the library, shall we? Ooh, Sev. I'm all a-quiver.”

“Careful he doesn’t get grease all over the books.”

“You shut the hell up, Potter. Let’s go, Sev.”

James watches them go, feeling irritation creep up within him. “I can’t understand why she’s friends with him.”

“One of life’s great mysteries,” says Sirius breezily, scraping bacon onto his plate.

“I mean, it’s obvious he’s got a big hard on for the dark arts.” James muses. “Everyone knows he’s into that except her. What is she, blind or something?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I just think she could do better is all. He’s a slimy git who’s in with every pureblood supremacist in the school. Mulciber, Rosier, Avery...”

“And my brother.” Sirius stares darkly over at the Slytherin table. James follows his gaze to see Regulus Black, sitting with the others.

“Yeah, and him...” James says. He can only imagine what it’s like to come from a family as fucked up as the Blacks. “Anyway, all I’m saying is Snape’s pure evil. And she’s, you know, a nice, normal girl. I don’t understand it.”

“Since when did you start caring so much about what Evans does?”

James doesn’t have an answer. “Since... no, I don't- you know what, it doesn’t matter. I've got things to do. See you in class, alright?”

He gets up.

“Where’re you off to now?” Sirius says through a mouthful of bacon and sausage.

“To the library.”

“You’re not studying now are you?”

“’Course I’m not. Just need to look something up for, you know, our project. The furry one.”

“Oh, right...”

“Well I’m off. Don’t start any fights without me.”

Sirius is still glaring at the Slytherins. “Yeah, go on then.”

James claps him on the shoulder.

* * *

Lily and Severus are sitting together at a table which is pushed up against some bookshelves. They’re all set up with textbooks and parchment spread across the surface. It’s gloomy, lit only by a single dim lamp mounted on the wall next to Lily.

Lily squints at a page of her textbook, shows it to Sev.

“Can’t see a bloody thing I’m doing, can you? What’s that say?”

Sev squints too.

“Er.. it says ’flobberworm’ I think. There’s a lamp behind you, look, turn it up if you like.”

“Alright.”

Lily stands up on her chair with her back to Severus and reaches high to fiddle with the dial on the lamp.

The way she’s reaching lifts her skirt, and from his angle he can see the barest hint of white peeking from beneath. He feels his face grow hot, taking in this cherished crumb hungrily, if a bit guiltily. Lily is totally oblivious, focused on the lamp as she chatters.

“Oh I’ve been meaning to ask, you going to Hogsmeade next weekend? I was thinking we could go round the shops, we haven’t gone together in a while.”

“Yeah, I- yeah, I was thinking about it. That sounds nice.”

“Cripes, it’s so fiddly. Shit, hang on.”

“Lily—” he says, eyes still glued to her rear.

“This is hopeless,” says Lily, turning and wiping hair away from her face. Severus quickly averts his gaze.

“You could always try magic,” he teases.

She claps a hand to her forehead. “Oh. Of course I could, why didn’t I think of it before? There I go, standing on the bloomin' chair like a fool. I can be so stupid sometimes.”

“You’re never stupid,” says Severus honestly. Poor Lily, so talented yet eternally held back by her muggle ancestry. Just like him, he supposes.

They smile at each other, genuine affection passing between them as he helps her off the chair. Lily waves her wand.

“Incandenso.”

The lamp brightens, casting them in golden light. Severus, feeling embarrassed for some reason, turns away— and spots James Potter, watching them with a smug smirk. The moment is shattered.

“ _You_.”

Lily spots him too. “D’you _mind_?” She snaps, about as happy to see him as Severus is.

“Need a book, don’t I?” Potter pushes deliberately forward between them to access the books, craning his neck to look at the higher shelves.

Severus isn’t convinced. He knows Potter, and Potter is always up to something. “And I s’pose it’s just a coincidence that the book you’re looking for happens to be right where we are.”

Potter regards him with derision. “Believe me, Snivellus, if I could go as far away from your fascinatingly rank aroma as I could I would, but as it happens, yeah. Advanced transfiguration. This is the section.”

“What d’you need advanced transfiguration for?” Lily says. Clearly, she isn’t fooled either. “This is all NEWT level, this is, you haven’t even done your OWLs yet.”

“I’m an overachiever, Evans. Hmm. Looks like I’m going to do some climbing myself. If you stay where you are, Snivelly, I’m sure you can get a good look at my bum as well.”

Snape flushes, hands gripping the table tightly. _How long has he been watching?_ He sneaks a side glance at Lily, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to have understood his meaning.

“You can have a look at my bum yourself, Evans.”

“As if I’d want to.”

He laughs. “Why wouldn’t you? It might take me a while to look. My bad eyesight and all.”

She rolls her eyes, then gets back on her chair.

“Why don’t I just get the book down for you, if it even exists, then you can be on your merry way as soon as possible.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Go on then, Evans. It’s the one with the brown binding.”

Severus looks at the bookshelf— all the books have brown leather binding.

“He thinks we’re stupid,” snarls Severus.

“You’re not wrong,” Potter snickers.

Lily sticks her hands on her hips. “Bit more specificity may be needed, Potter.”

Potter shrugs. “Fine. It’s the Torgoff’s. Should be on the shelf just above...”

She pulls it out, looks at it in confusion.

“What, ’Torgoff’s Animagi Compendium’? This one? What d’you need this for?”

Severus narrows his eyes in suspicion. He doesn’t like this. Potter is up to something, he knows it. Whatever it is, he’s going to figure it out.

“Just fancy some light reading on the side, what’s it to you?”

“Nothing, I s’pose.”

“Right. So, tell me, Snape—"

Severus twitches at the sound of his name.

“Do you think Evans is alright with you peeking up her skirt and all? I mean, it is a bit rude.”

Severus snarls, shamefaced. He should have known Potter wouldn’t let that one go. “Shut your lying gob.”

“Now I’m the liar, am I? I suppose next you’ll try and tell me you aren’t saving that entire experience for a special date with your hand later on... you tosser.” He laughs, and Severus has never hated anyone more in his life.

Lily hops down off the chair, faces up to him. “You’re vile, Potter. Get lost, now.”

Severus feels like he's melting into himself, shame and anger coursing through him in equal measure.

“You gonna give me my book?”

Lily shoves it unceremoniously at him. “I said leave.”

James shrugs moodily, fixing Severus with a meaningful look, one which he understands perfectly— this isn’t over between them, and he’s lucky Lily’s there.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Got me some light reading to do anyways.”

Once he’s gone, Severus relaxes, the tension leaving his body. Lily, on the other hand, still looks extremely heated. She opens a textbook violently and starts flipping the pages at random, clearly not reading a word.

“Fucking obnoxious wanker. I can’t stand him, I can’t bloody stand him at all. Who the hell does he think he is anyway, coming here and talking to us like that?”

“He thinks he’s James Potter of course, great bloody Quidditch star.”

“Oh too right, he’s always been a pompous arse... but ever since the final last year he’s been downright insufferable, hasn’t he.” She adopts a mocking voice. "‘Ooh look at me, everybody, I’m Gryffindor chaser, look at me and my stupid messy hair! Blah blah blah.’"

Severus laughs.

Lily's tirade isn't over. “Thinks he’s so fantastic, when he’s really just an arrogant puffed up git who thinks it’s alright for him to act however he pleases. Well I don’t agree. The worst part is the entire school seems to think so, don’t they. We must be the only ones who can actually see him for what he is.

“Well, I know some of my friends don’t like him very much.” Says Severus thoughtfully.

But this has entirely the wrong effect on Lily. She turns her ire on him instead.

“Oh, that right is it? What friends are those, Sev, the ones who think the school ought to kick out all the Muggleborns like me?”

“They don’t think that,” he says automatically.

“Don’t lie to me, I’ve heard them. Mudblood this and mudblood that. They all say it. Oh yeah, ’cause their opinion is _so_ valuable. Rather James Potter than that Mulciber. At least Potter doesn’t go on like he thinks those extremists have it right.”

He gapes at her. How can she _possibly_ think Potter is better than his friends? Severus knows that if she just knew Mulciber like he did, just understood their point of view— she would see what a great wizard he was, what a true visionary... “I— I only meant, not everyone likes Potter and thinks he’s a big hero. That’s all I meant.”

“Oh, what does it matter? You know what, I can’t concentrate on this anymore— think I’ll go find Marlene, we were supposed to meet before class.”

Sev, disappointed, watches as she begins to pack up her things and shove them messily into her bag. “You’re leaving already?”

“I...yeah. I’ll see you later, alright?”

He heaves a sigh. “Yeah, see ya.”

She looks like she’s going to say something else, then shakes her head and departs. Severus squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated. _You idiot_.

He packs up the remaining books and parchment, then wanders around the library to the desk, where Mr. Amirali, the librarian, sits reading. He looks up, almost in annoyance, at Severus’ approach.

“Sorry, but have you got a copy of ’Torgoff’s Animagi Compendium’?”

Amirali frowns. “As a matter of fact one was checked out a few minutes ago. But I’m certain there’s another copy around here somewhere... I could’ve sworn it was just stamped.”

He searches around a little.

“This is a transfiguration project? What year are you in?”

“No... just my own research, that’s all.”

Amirali squints at him from behind his owlish glasses. “Hmm. I’d wonder what you need the Compendium for. Are you thinking  acquiring Animagus status after you leave school?”

“Not really.”

“Then I can’t see how it would be of use to you. It’s an anecdotal guide detailing the process of becoming Animagus.”

“What, so it’s just about turning into an animal?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Ah, here it is. Yes, Torgoff the reknowned boar-man. Quite famous in his day.”

Severus holds his hand out expectantly “Thanks.”

“Hang on just a minute, young man. Have you got a permission slip? You need one from your head of house or the head of the transfiguration department. I can’t let you take this out of the library without it.

“You’re not telling me James Potter had permission.”

Amirali scoffs. “He did, of course. I wouldn’t let a student run off with a restricted book without following the proper protocols, now would I? Mr. Potter had permission from Professor McGonagall, who is both his head of house and the department head. You have neither, might I remind you, so if there’s nothing else I can help you with I suggest you get to class.”

“Fine, didn’t need the stupid book anyways.”

He wanders away, scowling.

_Bloody useless mudblood._

* * *

A hallway lined with tall arched windows encircles a pleasant open grassy area through which students are milling about, heading to their next classes. Marlene picks her way groggily through the crowd. The after-effects of Boosting charms are always awful, but it seems to be hitting her particularly hard today. Marlene perks up, however, when she sees her best friend waiting by the fountain.

“Mary!”

Mary grins. “Alright?”

“Alright... Where’ve you been all morning?”

Mary shrugs. “Bloody slept in, didn’t I? Miss anything good in Potions?”

“Oh, it was alright. Since you were bunking off I was working with Lily. You can copy my notes later if you like.”

“Can I? Cheers, Mar.” She sits on the rim of the fountain, and Marlene joins her.

“Oh, don’t mention it. Lily was a big help, you know how she’s like with Potions.”

“Yeah, her and that Snape, in’t they?”

“Yeah…” Marlene says thoughtfully. “I reckon they might’ve fell out though, she was ignoring him all class.”

“She should’ve started ignoring him a long time ago, if you ask me.”

“Too right.”

“Where is she, anyway? I need her help for my next protest.”

Marlene smiles fondly. “Always protesting something or the other, aren’t you? Soon people are just going to get bored of it and stop coming.”

“Nah, that’ll never happen.” Says Mary confidently. “People love a good riot. And this one’s important, it’s not about our dinner this time.”

“What is it about then?”

Mary leans forward conspiratorially. “Discrimination against Muggleborns at school. People deserve to feel safe here at Hogwarts, but it keeps getting worse.”

Marlene looks around the courtyard. A small group of fifth year Slytherins is sitting under the tree. Nicola Selwyn looks up, catches her watching. Marlene averts her gaze, feeling a shiver down her spine. Merlin, they’re a horrible lot. Marlene worries about her two best friends sometimes— she knows better than they do what certain Wizarding families can be like. “I s’pose... be careful, though, Mary.”

“Hang on, you haven’t heard the best part yet.” Says Mary. “I’m staging a walk-out during class. We all just stand up and leave at the same time and group up in the Entrance courtyard. It’s like bunking off but for a higher cause, so it’s bound to be a success. And no teacher’s going to do anything about it without seeming like they’re against Muggleborn rights, are they?”

Marlene ponders this. “D’you know, that’s actually rather clever.”

“Oh I know it is,” says Mary. “And I need Lily for this one.”

“Need me for what?”

Lily has appeared, a slight frown creasing her brow. Marlene wonders if they should ask about her fight with Severus; though generally the subject of Severus Snape isn’t one either of them like to bring up.

“I’m organising a protest,” begins Mary.

“Not about vegetarian food again,” says Lily, eyes widening in alarm.

Mary waves this away. “No, no, it’s much more important than that. It’s about Muggleborn discrimination at this school. Something’s got to change.” Mary smacks her fist into her palm, punctuating her statement. Lily’s eyes widen further.

Marlene nods supportively. “It’s a walk-out during classes. Quite clever, really.”

“Everyone’s going to want to participate. And the teachers won’t be able to stop us. It’s perfect.”

Lily bites her lip. “I know you mean well, Mare, but most of the people who’ll join in will just be interested in getting out of class early, won’t they? They’ll hardly appreciate the reality of the situation.”

“Well of course not, but that’s not the point. It’s not about what a handful of lazy students think, it’s about making an impression. A statement. A massive demonstration like that is bound to make the news—” Mary taps her chin, thoughtful. “I bet we could even get some Daily Prophet reporters to come here.”

Lily bites her lip, unresolved. She sees the truth of what Mary is saying, and it does sound like a good idea...

“Oh, go on Lily.” Mary wheedles. “Muggleborns like you and me have been taking their rubbish for ages. You know who I’m talking about. This is a chance to strike back and show the bastards we won’t take it lying down any more. But I need your help organising it all.”

“I s’pose so.”

Marlene eyes the Slytherins across the courtyard pensively. Nicola Selwyn flips her shiny hair over her shoulder, says something to Corrin Shea. “Funny, thinking about all that lot left sitting in class like idiots.”

Mary follows her gaze. “Yeah, I s’pose we’ll really be able to tell who’s who then, won’t we?

Lily thinks about this.

“Well alright then,” she says finally. “I’m in.”

* * *

Severus tightly clasps his flagon of butterbeer, one finger tapping nervously on the glass.

The Three Broomsticks is packed with students, trying to avoid the blistering wind. Rosmerta is at the bar serving butterbeer, and Severus watches as she chatters and laughs with her customers.

“Relax, will you?” Says Avery.

Severus turns his attention back to his table. Mulciber and Rosier are noticeably absent, leaving the fifth years by themselves.

“I don’t know what’s got you so wound up lately,” continues Avery. “But you're driving me up a bloody wall.”

“Sorry,” Severus mumbles into the foam of his butterbeer.

“What, don’t tell me it’s Evans again?”

Severus glances across the pub, where Lily is sitting with her annoying, gossipy friends. They seem to be handing out pieces of parchment to anyone who walks by. Probably some stupid fancy of Mary MacDonald’s. He can never understand why Lily is friends with those two, he finds them utterly shallow and uninteresting. Lily is far too smart for that.

“You’ve got to let it go, old boy.” Avery is saying. “It’s not healthy for a man of your age and breed to spend all your time hung up on one bird. Broaden your horizons! There’s plenty of mudblood minge out there just waiting to feel the immense power of a true wizard’s wand, if you know what I mean.”

He laughs riotously at his own joke.

Nicola lets out a noise of disgust.

“What?”

“You’re so crude, Avery. Besides, Snape is half-blood himself, remember. Hardly a different _breed_ , is it?”

Avery scoffs. “The wizarding blood is what counts. Not his fault his father is a turnip who decided to spend his seed in his mother. A true witch of decent breeding, as you know perfectly well.”

Severus rolls his eyes. “I’d rather you not talk about my parents that way, if you don’t mind.”

“Merlin, you’re all so touchy today.” Says Avery. “Where’s Mulciber, anyway? Thought he said he’d be here.”

“He and Rosier are in the village, they said they had something to do.” Shea says.

Nicola scoffs. “They’re always doing things they don’t tell anybody about.”

“Just because they don’t tell _you_ , Selwyn.” Wilkes replies, derisively. “Some things are just too sensitive to talk about in public. They’re meeting some important people, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Shea looks doubtful. “You can’t mean they’re actually talking to—"

Wilkes interrupts him. “Shea! Keep it down, or do you want Mulciber to get in trouble?”

“Nobody’s listening, you pillock.” Says Shea. “Answer the question, since you clearly know so much more than the rest of us.”

Wilkes looks too and fro, as if checking for eavesdroppers, then leans in. “I can’t tell you a lot.”

“Because you don’t know, right?” Sneers Selwyn.

“I know enough! Look, between you and I, things are about to start changing round here, very soon. The pieces are still being put in place but—" He taps his nose knowingly. “There’s a massive storm coming, and we want to make sure we’re on the right side of it when it hits.”

“Do storms even have right or wrong sides?” Asks Shea.

“It’s only a figure of speech, Shea, don’t overthink it.”

“Yeah, it’s a figure of speech alright, Wilkes. Only you’re using it badly.”

There are snickers around the table. Wilkes sulks.

“Leave it out, Shea.”

Shea continues: “So if you’re so knowledgeable, how come you’re sitting here with us and not with them in this very important meeting?”

“Well, I—” Wilkes clearly does not have an answer. The others at the table laugh. Severus does too, glad someone else is the subject of ridicule for once. Serves Wilkes right for being so pompous.

He looks up, makes eye contact with Lily. Both of them avert their gaze.

Across the pub, Lily focuses her gaze on the pamphlets she’s handing out. She doesn’t want to think about Severus, having a laugh with his new Slytherin mates.

“Rather chummy, the whole lot of them, aren’t they?” says Mary.

Lily sighs. “I know they’re his housemates and all, but I wish... well, it doesn’t matter.”

“So you and him have stopped talking, then?

“What? Of course we haven’t. He’s still my best mate, isn’t he? We just had an argument yesterday and I’ve been avoiding him, that’s all. It’ll sort itself out eventually, always does.”

“Well Christ, thank heavens for that.” Says Mary, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Marlene casts her a sympathetic look. “Oh, don’t be so nasty, Mary.” Lily knows Marlene is just being kind. Neither of her friends can understand why she’s friends with Severus.

“Oh yeah? And why shouldn’t I? I reckon Lily’s better off not being friends with someone who spends all his time with Mulciber and that lot. Besides, I’ve never liked him. Always gave me a bad feeling, that one.

“You hardly like anyone, Mary, and besides, you don’t know him.” Lily says defensively. “It’s not easy for him, you know, he’s hardly ever had any friends besides me and he’s always being picked on.”

The Slytherins are rising from their table, putting on their cloaks on to leave. Severus shoots Lily one last glance before he does so.

“Oh, boo hoo. Some people ought to be picked on if you ask me.”

“What a horrid thing to say!” Says Marlene, scandalised.

“Can’t blame me though, can you? He’s... strange. I s’pose we’ll see what side he’s on during the protest though, won’t we.”

“Yeah I s’pose we will,” says Lily. “I know Sev and I know he’ll stand up. He will.” She tries for confidence, fails. Her friends exchange an uneasy glance, which only upsets Lily further..

“Yeah, alright. If you say so.”

Lily rises, slides out of the booth. “Well, you don’t have to believe me, you’ll see for yourselves soon enough. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and see if I can catch him. I should apologise for being in such a state yesterday.”

“Lily—"

“I’ll see you later,” Lily says, fastening her cloak. She hurries out of the pub, leaving Mary and Marlene to exchange exasperated looks.

“We can still hand out a few more of these around the village before we go back.” Mary says, and Marlene nods. They start to pack up their pamphlets and papers into their bags.

“D’you get the feeling she’s in for a world of heartbreak?” Says Marlene.

“Better sooner than later.”

“You never know, I s’pose he might stand up after all.”

Mary’s expression darkens. “Well if he does, I swear I’ll get down on my knees and apologise to him. But if he doesn’t, she bloody well had better see reason. There’s no grey here. Something’s coming, and you’re either with us or you’re the enemy.

Marlene laughs. “Merlin’s sake, Mare, it’s only a protest, not a battle is it?”

But Mary is resolute. “No, it’s a war.”

* * *

Lily, scarf tugged about by the wind, hurries up the Hogsmeade main road. There’s no sign of Severus in all their usual spots. He must have gone up to the castle.

“Hang on a minute Evans!”

It echoes loudly. Lily hears and turns, then starts walking faster.

Mulciber and Rosier are right behind her, the last people Lily wants to deal with right now.

“I’m talking to you, Evans! I just want to ask you a question is all.”

She stops, and they catch up with her.

“What do you want?”

Mulciber exchanges a grin full of self-importance with Rosier.

“I’ve a question about our dear friend Sev, you see.”

Lily is impassive, determined not to let them get to her. “Oh yeah? And what’s that, then?”

Mulciber smirks. “Well, I’ve been thinking about getting him a gift. You see, I’ve been wondering and wondering what to get him.”

Lily waits for him to spell it out.

“You don’t happen to know what he wants, do you?”

“As a matter of fact, I know what he needs.” She says. “You lot to stay away from him.”

They look at each other again, amused.

“Oh, is that right?” Says Rosier with a sneer.

“Yeah, that’s right. He’s not like the rest of you, he’s a good person but he’s had a hard time of it. You’re just taking advantage.”

“He’s a big boy, he makes his own decisions about who he’s friends with.” Says Mulciber.

Lily glares at him. She knows there’s truth to that, really, but she won’t admit it. “You’re not his friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” says Mulciber. “You haven’t answered my question yet. But no matter… I do know one thing he wants more than anything else, and I can see why.”

Lily is nonplussed; she has no idea what Mulciber is banging on about. “And what’s that then?”

Mulciber doesn’t answer, but addresses Rosier instead. “I see why our Sev likes her. She’s spunky, isn’t she? And the blood’s filthy, yes, but the outside’s not so bad.” Rosier laughs.

“You ought to shut your mouth or I’m going to report you.”

Mulciber leers at her. “As if this school and its insignificant rules really mattered to me. Report me if you like, Evans. It’s all the same to me. Soon everyone will be doing what I tell them.”

“You’re delusional,” says Lily.

“What do you know about it, Mudblood?”

He pulls out his wand, and she instinctively reacts with alarm.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just love to see it in your eyes when you realise I could. I could do anything I wanted to you and there’s not a thing you could do to stop me.”

He takes two steps forward, rests the tip against her cheek gently. Lily doesn’t react, doesn’t move, fear is coursing through her veins but she’s unwilling to let him see, to give him the satisfaction— he laughs at her, then—

Suddenly, Mulciber is blasted back away from her and off his feet, freezing solid as a board as he hits the floor. Lily and Rosier turn in surprise and see James Potter with his wand out, just having come up the hill behind them.

“Merlin’s sake, Potter!”

“What?” He says.

Rosier curses and draws his own wand. “You blood-traitor sc—"

“Langlock.” James says calmly.

Rosier is silenced mid-sentence, he clutches at his throat as his voice is taken from him by James’s spell.

Lily “What on earth are you doing?”

“You’re joking, right? He had a wand on you. He was threatening you.”

Rosier raises his own wand.

“Impedimenta!” Shouts Lily, and Rosier is stopped in his tracks. “I heard what he said, Potter, but I had things under control. I don’t need any help from you.”

She starts to walk away, and to her annoyance he runs after her.

“Oh, well, pardon me, then. From where I was standing it looked awfully like you were just going to take that one lying down.”

“Just because I don’t settle everything with a curse, Potter, doesn’t mean I was taking it lying down. Bloody hell. Now this is a much bigger mess than when it started. You had to fire the first spell, didn’t you.”

“Well, sorry. I just reacted on instinct, that’s all. I thought you were in trouble.”

“I was perfectly fine! Maybe you meant well, Potter, but I don’t need you or anyone jumping to my rescue. You can’t just pick fights whenever you feel like it.”

“Not going to report me, are you?”

Lily sighs, relenting. “Oh I s’pose not, but only seeing as they were really asking for it.”

James grins. “I can’t stand people like him. Any one of them could do with a good hex if you ask me.”

“Has it ever occurred to you there’s better ways of fighting them than starting duels?”

“What like?”

Lily gives him an exasperated look. “Peaceful, non-violent protest for starters. Mary and me are organising one next week.”

“Protesting what exactly? If it’s another one on not enough vegetarian food in the dining hall I’ll have to sit it out.”

“Not exactly. Here, I have a pamphlet somewhere.”

She retrieves a crumpled one from her pocket and hands it to him. James smooths it out and reads it interestedly. Lily watches him. The one good thing about James Potter is that he genuinely seems to care about stuff like this.

“It’s about the way Muggleborns are treated at this school,” she explains. “And it’s a walk-out, as you can see, during classes.”

“Oh forget it then. You know how important attendance is to me.”

She can’t help but grin at that. “I understand,” she says.

He grows serious. “Jokes aside... I’ll be there, no question about it. My friends too.”

She nods, stopping before the castle gates. “Alright, well I’ll see you then, I suppose.”

He stops and sticks his hands in his pockets, a little awkward.

“Right, then. See you.”

* * *

Further down the hill, the fifth year Slytherins stumble upon the frozen Rosier and Mulciber.

“Oh hell,” says Avery.

Nicola unfreezes them with a wave of her wand. Severus helps Mulciber to his feet, Rosier coughing as he regains movement.

“What on earth happened?” Demands Severus.

Rosier snarls at him. “What d’you think? Your stupid mudblood girlfriend and her blood traitor pal.”

“Lily? Lily did this? That can’t be right—"

“With a little help from James Potter,” adds Mulciber. “I hate that jumped-up little prick, he gets on my last nerve.”

Severus can’t believe what he’s hearing. “James Potter? She doesn’t even _like_ him.”

“Who cares who she likes?” Says Rosier aggressively. “She dared to lay a wand on us, and she’ll pay the price like every mudblood in this school.”

“Now hang on-“

“Don’t worry, Severus.” Begins Mulciber, but Rosier interrupts angrily.

“It's the mudblood who should worry. I'll make her wish—”

Mulciber places a restraining hand on his arm. “Evan, calm down. Sev here wants her so badly, he’ll have her.”

“Not likely,” says Nicola Selwyn with a scoff. “If she hasn’t shagged him yet it’s probably because she doesn’t want to. I mean, what girl in her right mind would?”

Avery laughs nastily as Sev scowls, anger bubbling in his chest.

“Oh, our Sev’s got his charms. She’ll come around. And failing that, we’ll lend him a hand. What are friends for, right?” Mulciber throws a sympathetic arm around Sev’s shoulders. Sev looks up at him, grateful. The rest of them could burn as far as he was concerned, but Mulciber was the only person who had ever seen what Severus was worth, the only person who had accepted him.

“Don’t worry, Severus,” says Mulciber. “We’ll make her see she was wrong about you.”

Mulciber takes a last look down at the village, and Severus follows his gaze. Most of the students have gone up to the castle by now, with only a few stragglers left over.

“Yeah, they’ll all see.”

The Slytherins turn, and head back up towards the castle.


	2. Entropy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the protest dawns, and tensions that have been simmering below the surface come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Here's the second chapter. You'll notice that in this chapter there's an unusually structured scene between Lily and Sev- in the original screenplay version, it's probably a bit more effective. But I think it still works! Let me know your thoughts!

_"A friend of mine grows his very own brambles_  
_They twist all around him till he can't move_  
 _Beautiful, quivering, chivalrous shambles_  
 _What is my friend trying to prove?"_

* * *

 

The world is sideways and hazy,

Sirius yawns widely, stirring a little more and finally making headway on actually getting out of bed. He looks around.

The Gryffindor boy's dormitory is a mess, as usual. Clothes and other belongings are strewn about haphazardly— only one boy's area is neat and tidy, and it is vacant. Remus hasn’t yet returned from the Hospital Wing.

Peter and Cresswell are still asleep, but James is awake, sitting shirtless on the edge of his bed with his back to Sirius.

Sirius regards him a while, taking him in, before speaking.

“Thought you would've gone out for your run already.”

James twists around to look at him, smiles softly in greeting.

“It's pissing rain.”

Sirius looks outside. It is pissing rain.

“Hasn't stopped you before,” he points out.

“S'pose not. Didn't feel up to it today, that's all.”

“Fair enough... everything alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't it be.”

“Dunno.”

“Moony gets out today, remember. Should we wait for Peter to wake up?”

They look. Peter is snoring contentedly away, not showing any signs of waking. But there’s no real hurry, thinks Sirius. The morning has only just begun.

“Could wait a few minutes, yeah.”

James nods, stretches widely. Again, Sirius's gaze lingers on him. James rummages through his clothing looking, most likely, for something that's not too disgusting to wear again. From a pocket of his trousers he pulls out a crumpled, bright purple pamphlet.

“Oh yeah, there's that protest thing today. Almost forgot.”

Sirius blinks at him. “What's today?”

“You know, that thing Mary MacDonald's doing. I told you about it. The whole school's been talking about it since Saturday.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Reckon Remus is up for it? I suppose he hasn't got to go to class at all, if he says he's still feeling poorly.”

“I'm sure Remus will manage,” replies Sirius. He yawns widely. “All it ever is is standing in a big group while MacDonald shouts at you.”

“Yeah. She's funny, isn't she.”

“Not bad looking either.”

James stops what he's doing to give him an odd sceptical look.

“What?” Says Sirius.

“Nothing.”

Sirius frowns. “You get like this every time I talk about girls. I don't understand it. We used to talk about girls all the time.”

James is inscrutable. “Yeah, things change though, don't they. People do, as well.”

Sirius digests this. “So is it you that's changed, or me?”

“We both have, haven't we.” James says. “What I mean is, we're older now, and that means we're... I don't know, realising things I suppose.”

“Yeah. Alright. If you want to start making sense any time soon, you let me know.”

James shrugs this off and finds a clean enough shirt to pull on. He puts on his glasses and checks himself in his mirror for a while, making subtle edits to his appearance. He rumples his hair one way, then the other, then looks over at Peter's unconscious form in the mirror.

“Sod it, I'm waking him. Can't sleep all day, can he?”

James goes over to Peter and shakes him, not particularly gently. Peter groans as he blinks awake.

“Hrrrh... what... what time is it...”

“It's past time you were up is what it is. Come on, rise and shine then, you great lump.”

Peter sits up blearily, rubbing his eyes. “I'm up, alright, I'm up.”

He makes his leisurely way to his cupboard and finds his uniform, putting it on just as slowly.

James looks at Sirius.

“You planning on getting dressed or are you just going to stand there?”

Sirius starts, realises he's still in his pants and looks around for where he threw yesterday's clothes. He yanks them on unceremoniously.

“Shall we then.”

They troop out, descending the spiral staircase into the Gryffindor common room, which is dotted with students starting their day. The air is palpably abuzz with news of the protest.

“At least we don't have to go to classes today,” James says. “They can't possibly give everyone in the school detention, can they?”

“I s'pose they could just dock off points from everyone except Slytherin.”

“That's hardly fair,” says Peter “There's bound to be at _least_ a couple of Slytherins there.”

James snorts. “Don't believe that, they're all rotten.”

“Surely not all of them…” says Peter uncertainly.

“Oh yeah? Show me a decent Slytherin in this entire school.” James retorts, as he’s hailed by Benjy Fenwick.

“Oi! Potter! When exactly were you thinking of putting the next practise timetable up? I've got a busy week to plan, you know.”

“Yeah, I'll get to it soon enough, calm down.”

“Alright, you take your sweet time then Potter. It's not like our first game's next week.” He makes eye contact with Sirius, and gives him an odd look that Sirius doesn't quite comprehend. Fenwick nods in recognition.

“Alright, Black?”

“Yeah, alright?” Sirius replies, perplexed.

They head towards the portrait hole.

“I hope Moony's up to walking down to breakfast,” Sirius comments. “I'm half starved. And I'm not eating that hospital wing shit again.” He could almost smell bacon and sausage, even seven floors up.

“We'll see,” says James amusedly. “Hey, Dorcas, you still owe me that two galleon. And a kiss.”

Dorcas Meadowes is just coming in through the portrait hole. She fixes him with a fondly exasperated look. “Honestly, Potter. You'll get your money, but you know as well as I do that was never part of the bet.”

“Please yourself, then. You're missing out on something great here.”

She laughs. “Yeah, in your dreams, Potter.”

He grins at her as she heads towards her dorm. Sirius is not too impressed.

“What bet was that?”

James’s hand jumps to the back of his head, ruffling up his hair. “It’s stupid... She bet me I couldn't get completely off my face and still score five goals. Obviously I could. It hurt a lot, though.”

Sirius glances at Dorcas’ retreating back. “Over the summer?”

“Mm. I went to hers since her parents were having a do, and my parents were invited.”

Sirius chews his lip, irritated.

“Right.”

They continue down the seventh floor corridor towards the grand staircase.

“Oh, I had a horrible dream.” Says Peter. “In it, we went down to see Moony in the hospital wing. Like we're doing now. Only when we got there, he was a great bloody werewolf and he et all of us.”

“That's stupid, werewolves don't eat people.” Says James.

“How do you know?”

“S'pose I don't, but it'd be like... cannibalism, wouldn't it? We can ask Moony if he's ever eaten someone.”

They laugh.

“Be funny if he had,” says Sirius. “Some poor first year who wandered too close to the forest one of those nights he got out of the shack... ooh. Scary thought, isn't it.”

James grins. “Yeah well, it's just logical, isn't it? If—"

He stops as students pass them.

He continues in a hushed tone “—if a werewolf wants to reproduce, it has to keep its human victims alive long enough to turn into other werewolves, don't it? No, I suspect it mostly eats deer and things like that.”

“Or those weird horse things that pull the carriages,” pipes up Peter.

They look at him, confused. “What are you on about, Peter? What horses?” Says James

“The ones that—"

“You don't suppose we have time to go to the Great Hall first, do you? Talking about this is making me hungry.” Says Sirius. He’s _certain_ he can smell bacon now.

“How is _this_ making you hungry? Honestly.” James shakes his head. “We’ll get breakfast later.”

Instead of going to the Great Hall and delicious bacon, they turn left at the Entrance Hall and cross the leaf-strewn courtyard...

It has only just stopped raining, and the air has that distinct dewy after-storm feeling to it, but the sun is bright through the clouds.

“How is the team shaping up, then James?” Asks Sirius as they cross a bridge between two towers.

“We're doing alright, I reckon. I wasn't sure at first about some of the people I picked who'd never really played before. I passed over plenty of pureblood kids who'd been playing for years.”

“Why's that?” Says Peter curiously.

“Call it instinct if you like. Some people have just got a... flair, a knack I suppose. You've either got it or you haven't, clear as anything once you get on a broomstick. Doesn't matter how long you've been playing for. You can just tell. Or some can, anyway. That's what makes a good captain.”

They hurry across the clock tower courtyard, towards the gigantic pendulum swinging away the seconds. The courtyard itself is littered with statues in various stages of disrepair and gnarled crabapple trees that are still losing their leaves.

They climb the wooden stairs into the clocktower.

“Hope he's awake already. I'd hate to have to wake him.” Says Peter.

“Too bad for him if he isn't, he's got a class to skive off, hasn't he.” Replies James.

He pushes open the hospital wing doors, letting his friends through first.

But Remus is awake, smiling tiredly at the sight of them. He looks quite a lot better than the last time Sirius saw him, though still scarred and a little weak.

“Oi oi! There he is!” Crows James at the sight of him. They gather around his bed.

“You're looking better,” says Peter.

“Yeah, I'm feeling better. About ready to leave this bloody hospital bed, I reckon.”

They whoop and cheer, and Remus grins at their enthusiasm. They’ve done this a million times, but it never gets old.

Madame Pomfrey bustles out of her office and puts a palm to Remus's forehead critically.

“I'd say you're about ready to leave if you feel up to it.”

“I feel more than up to it.”

He pushes himself upright and swings his legs off the side of the bed. James puts a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“You're good friends,” says Madame Pomfrey approvingly. “Always coming to see him like this. Aren't they, Remus?”

“Yeah, they are.”

He gets to his feet successfully, and Madam Pomfrey swirls her wand into a glass of water, turning it light pink, and hands it to him.

“There you are. That should give you a bit of strength for the day.”

He drinks it eagerly. She gives him a final nod of approval and starts to strip his bed.

“Fancy some breakfast?” Asks Sirius eagerly.

“Sirius here hasn't shut up about breakfast since we left this morning.”

“Yeah, alright.” Remus says. “I’m still a bit queasy though.”

James puts a companionable arm around his shoulders as they head to the door.

“What's been going on since I've been out?”

“Oh all sorts,” says James with a grin. “Wait till we tell you about it...”

* * *

Water runs steadily into a white ceramic sink. Lily rinses the suds off her hands, then turns the tap off.

She inspects herself in the mirror critically, not entirely satisfied with what she sees there. She pokes at a spot near her nose, flips her damp hair over her shoulder..

Lily opens a little bag of toiletries, applying some cream to her face. She reaches for her wand, then taps the top of her head, screwing up her face in concentration.

“Siccum.”

Starting from the crown of her head, the strands of wet hair dry themselves.

* * *

The Slytherin's bathrooms are considerably darker and grimier, thanks in large part to the lack of windows. The bathroom is empty except for one boy.

Severus is preparing for a shower, naked except for a grey towel wrapped around his lower half. Still half-dead from sleep, he checks every stall to make sure he’s alone.

He enters the shower.

He pulls the curtain closed.

The water turns on.

* * *

Lily switches the tap on, runs her fingers through her hair, rearranges a few strands, looks dissatisfied.

* * *

Severus stares at a spot on the wall. His hand trails downwards… he can’t get the image of _her_ out of his mind, in the library that day…

* * *

Lily, only in her underwear, turns sideways in her mirror and grabs experimentally at her tummy. Maybe she ought to start exercising… or avoiding the treacle tart at dinner.

* * *

Severus, breathing hard,  presses his free hand against the wall for support.

* * *

Lily pulls on her uniform, reties her tie a couple of times, adjusting her skirt. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.

* * *

Severus, reaching climax, doubles over against the wall.

* * *

Lily checks herself in the mirror one last time, nods with acceptance, and heads for the door.

* * *

Severus, business done, towels himself off, wraps it around his waist and does the same.

* * *

Severus and Lily run into each other in the hall.

“Hiya!” She chirps.

Severus is surprised at the warmth of her greeting. “Oh, hello.” He says.

“Look, I'm sorry I got a bit cross with you the other day. You know me. I shouldn't've lost my temper. Friends, yeah?”

“Always.”

Lily beams and takes his arm as they walk. “Have you heard about this protest thing today?” She says casually.

“I heard something. Seems all a bit irresponsible if you ask me.”

She stops, and he does too. “Why? Seems like it's only right to stand up for what you believe in... I'm going, you know.”

Severus looks at her, surprised. “I wouldn't have thought _you'd_ be mixed up in all of it.”

 “Oh and why shouldn't I be?” She says defensively. “My friend Mary MacDonald's the one in charge after all, I think it's an important cause. I've been lending a hand organising and things.

“You have?” Merlin, he hated the influence her Gryffindor friends had on her. Always leading her into distractions.

“Yeah. Proper revolutionary, aren't I?” Lily says proudly. “This is our chance, Sev, to show the school Muggleborns are here to stay.”

Severus digests this information. He’s miscalculated how much Lily cares about the subject.

She keeps blabbering. “It's going to be grand, everyone out in full force like that. Well, I s'pose apart from anyone who doesn't agree that Muggleborns ought to be treated right.”

Sev's mind is racing, realising the predicament he's in and the corner he's been backed into. He tries hard not to let it show on his face.

“Well, there might be some who don't want to get in trouble and miss class, won't there?”

“Well some things are more important than school, Sev. Besides, between you and me, you don't have to worry. The teachers know about it, and they all agree with us even if they can't say anything official-like. I talked to Slughorn myself actually, you know how much he likes me. He came 'round eventually.”

He has no way around it now.

“Well, that's... er, good. Well done.”

“Yeah, thanks... listen I've got to run and meet Mary and Marlene for breakfast, but I'll see you in Potions!”

She hugs him, and he hugs her back a little awkwardly.

After she's gone, he smacks himself on the forehead in frustration.

“Fuck!” He swears loudly.

“You look frustrated, Snivellus!” Calls Sirius Black as they pass on their way to breakfast. Lupin is with them again, Severus notes, looking sickly as ever.

“Watch out lads, Sniv's gone spastic!” Says Pettigrew. The surrounding students laugh.

“Shut up!” Severus whirls around and stalks away from them. Their laughter echoes in his mind, cruel and clear.

* * *

Mary and Marlene are sitting together at the Gryffindor table, which is densely packed with students.

Marlene scoops cornflakes into her bowl and looks at it with disillusionment.

“Don't know why but I haven't got an appetite at all lately...”

“Oh come on Mar, you're already as skinny as a wand.” Says Mary. “You should eat something at least.”

“You sound like my mum.”

“Your mum's right then.”

“Yeah maybe, only she nags something awful, doesn't she?” Says Marlene sulkily, filling her bowl with milk.

“Well, you just seem a bit moody lately, that's all.”

Marlene delicately tries to avoid the subject. “Do I?”

They're distracted from this topic by Lily's arrival.

“Hello, gang.” Says Lily cheerily.

“You look happy,” says Mary.

“I'm just excited is all. How're you feeling?”

Mary bangs her fist on the table. “More than ready, that's how.”  She looks up at the ceiling, which is clear and bright. “Looks like the rain's cleared up as well, brilliant. Oh, and I've stashed little tin cans in all the classrooms.”

“Tin cans?” Asks Lily.

“They're charmed, so that I can talk and everyone who's near one can hear me. Like speakers, I suppose. I'll make an official announcement when it's time. That way anyone who hasn't heard yet definitely will.”

“That's clever, that is.”

“Yeah, Marlene helped me with it, she's good with charms.” Says Mary proudly.

Marlene blushes. “It was nothing.”

“It was a big help, Mar...I reckon I've thought of everything. This has to go right.”

“I'm sure it will.”

Mary leans forward, growing serious. “Listen, I know I don't say things like this very often but honest... I'm really glad you two are with me. There's no one else I'd rather do this with.”

“I agree,” says Lily.

“Yeah, and me.” Marlene adds.

They clasp hands, smiling at each other in anticipation.

Mary grins. “Alright, girls, finish your breakfasts. We're going to change history today.”

Marlene and Lily laugh at her dramatics, and after a while Mary joins in.

* * *

The potions corridor is dimly lit and windowless, and the torchlight cast shapes on the dark stone walls and the faces of the fifth year Slytherins leaning against them.

“The whole thing is ridiculous if you ask me,” Nicola Selwyn is saying.

“Seconded,” Shea says. “We're here trying to get a proper education and instead we've got delinquents running around trying to create anarchy.”

Wilkes folds his arms. “They really ought to put a stop to this, ought'n they? I wonder why they haven't.”

“Most of the professors here are only Dumbledore's toadies,” scoffs Avery. “Blood traitors and mudbloods and muggle-lovers. Even ones that are halfway decent like Sluggie are in his bloody pocket.”

“My dad's always saying Dumbledore ought to be sacked,” says Wilkes.

“That’s not likely, is it?” Severus asks.

“You never know. Things are changing, just like Mulciber's been saying.”

Shea laughs. “Oh well, if your precious _Mulciber's_ been saying it, then _obviously_ it's going to happen.” He says sarcastically.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Wilkes asks.

“Nothing. Only you can't go two bloody seconds without bringing him up, can you? It's actually rather revolting. If you wanted to suck him off so badly, you could just say so. It'd be less painful.”

Wilkes goes tight with anger, but Nicola and Avery laugh.

“And what's the matter with you, Snape?” Asks Nicola suddenly, noticing his silence.

“Oh, nothing. I'm alright, thanks.”

Nicola looks irritated that he would assume she was concerned about his well-being.

“Good for you... say, you haven't been charming up, have you?”

He scoffs. “No, I don't do those sorts of charms. I prefer to keep my head clear.”

He doesn’t miss Selwyn and Shea’s shared eyeroll.

“If you say so.”

They all stand up straight as Professor Slughorn comes down the corridor, still in his slippers and a book tucked under his arm.

“Oh hello all. Early, aren't you?”

“Yes sir,” Wilkes replies. “Proper attendance matters to _some_ of us, you see.”

Slughorn is unlocking the door to the Potions classroom and doesn’t seem to have heard what Wilkes said.

“Quite right, quite right.”

He opens the door and they file in after him into the potions classroom, taking their customary seats at the far end. Wilkes follows Slughorn up to his desk.

“What book have you got there, Sir?” Asks Wilkes. Severus rolls his eyes. Wilkes, ever the influence-monger, is always trying to suck up to Slughorn. Unfortunately for Wilkes, he’s neither talented nor clever enough to interest Slughorn in anything more than just his name.

“Hmm? Oh, this one. It was recently published by an old student of mine, Eldred Worple. Quite thrilling, I must say. He spent some time in Transylvania living among vampires... yes, I thought I might need something to occupy myself today.”

Wilkes frowns. “Sorry sir, but what do you mean?”

“You are out of the loop, aren't you, Mr. Wilkes. Your classmate, Miss Evans, informed me she was planning some sort of demonstration today, which involves all of you kids leaving my classroom at once.”

At the mention of Lily's name, all the Slytherins turn to look at Sev. He shrugs, feigning innocence.

“Now I don't typically participate in that sort of thing myself, mind, but I admire their enthusiasm. So long as it doesn't become habitual. I shouldn't like to be out of a job!”

Wilkes looks thunderstruck, and returns to his seat wordlessly, leaning forward so he can hiss at Snape.

“Hear that? Your little mudblood slut is in charge of the whole thing. Why didn't you tell us, eh? We could've put a stop to this nonsense.”

“I didn't know honest,” says Severus helplessly. “I only found out today she's involved at all. Besides, she's not the one in charge, it's Mary MacDonald...”

“Oh, I hate her. Foul, common little thing.” Nicola sniffs her disapproval.

The door opens and the rest of the students stream in. Lily waves at him— he gives her a weak smile in return.

“Good morning, everyone. Now, I shan't take attendance until the end of class, that is if I remember at all...”

There’s laughter from the Gryffindor side of the classroom.

“Yes, well, I suppose there's not much point in trying to teach anything today so feel free to do some quiet studying on your own or in small groups in the meantime.”

The anticipation is palpable in the room, and Severus feels as though his stomach is going to fall out from the nerves.

Across the classroom, Lily is equally anxious.

“I'm shaking, I am, look at that.” She holds up her hand, which is trembling.

“Nervous?” Asks Marlene sympathetically. Mary has gone to the courtyard ahead of time, leaving the two girls by themselves.

“Not nervous, not exactly... well, maybe a bit.”

“There's nothing to be nervous about,” Marlene says confidently. “It'll probably be like the rest of them, we go out there and Mary shouts at everyone.”

Lily shakes her head. “No, no, this one's going to be different. I can feel it.”

“I s'pose we'll see soon enough, won't we.”

Suddenly there is a strange, loud crackling sound from the back of the room, like radio static. Slughorn nearly jumps out of his skin.

Mary’s voice comes roaring across the classroom: “ _Attention Hogwarts, this is Mary MacDonald and I say the time has come to act!”_

This is greeted by cheers, and students getting to their feet, James Potter, in the lead, bounds up with enthusiasm.

_“I say the time has come to stand up against prejudice and strike a blow against oppression!”_

All of the Gryffindors are already up, except Lily who is staring at Severus with mounting dread.

_“If you're against oppression, I invite you to stand up from your chairs and come and join me in the second floor courtyard.”_

This draws scoffs from the Slytherin gang. Lily, who has got to her feet, is trying to get a good angle on Severus, but his head is bowed over his desk.

_“If you're against the pureblood supremacist institution, stand up!”_

 “Oh, honestly. What a display.” Says Nicola Selwyn loftily.

_“If you're against fascism, elitism, and discrimination, stand up! If you're against the persecution of muggleborns, stand up!”_

The students are leaving. Marlene beckons to Lily, but Lily hestitates..

_“If you're not an absolute wanker fuckface, stand- oh yeah, sorry professor, I'll keep it clean. Yeah, don't worry, we'll be fine. Second floor courtyard, everybody, let's gather and show the world Hogwarts won't stay silent!”_

“This is absolutely unbearable,” says Avery loudly. “Please, will someone kill me.”

Lily goes around to Sev's desk. He has absolutely no choice but to look up at her.

“Come on then, Sev, what are you waiting for?” She says, trying for casual.

The other Slytherins observe him with great interest, a pack of jackals surrounding a possible feast. What _is_ he waiting for?

She looks at him, desperately, imploring “Sev...”

He looks at her in anguish, absolutely unsure what to do.

“You can't _possibly_ be thinking of joining this lunacy.”

Surprisingly, it is Wilkes' condescending tone that spurs Sev's decision: slowly, so slowly, he rises from his chair and pure relief blossoms on Lily's face as he does.

Severus, struck by the implications of what he's just done, will not look as his friends as Lily tugs on his arm and leads him out the door. She's dignified, he rigid with shame.

The Slytherins watch them go, not quite sure what to do or think. They put their heads together to discuss the matter without Slughorn overhearing.

“That was certainly something,” says Shea.

“Dirty little half-breed traitor... what did I tell you, Avery?” Nicola says.

“Leave it out, Selwyn, none of us saw that coming.”

“What do you think Mulciber's doing?” Says Wilkes thoughtfully.

Shea rolls his eyes. “Can you give it a rest with Mulciber?”

“I'm serious, you don't honestly think he's going to take this lying down, do you? Why should any of us? You heard her, they're going and threatening purebloods now. Threatening _us_.”

“Hate to say it, but I actually agree with him this time.” Says Avery. “We should go there and show them what's what. Have ourselves a counter-protest. What gives them the right but not us?”

Wilkes nods urgently, getting to his feet. “Come on then, let's go find Mulciber.”

Nicola looks up at him in annoyance. “Do we have to?”

She sees that they do, in fact, have to, and reluctantly stands up. She signals to Shea that he should do the same.

“Waste of my bloody time,” he says.

They leave the classroom, Wilkes leading the charge with Shea trailing in the rear. Slughorn watches them go with a bemused expression, then returns to his book.

* * *

The courtyard is absolutely packed with students, not the entire school but still much more than they had bargained for.

The crowd is excitable and just hovering on the border of uncontrollable. Lily has the sense that a lot of the students are here mostly for a good time, and not really for actual political reason.

Still, Lily thinks proudly, Mary is in her element. She's climbed onto the dry fountain, elevated above everyone else, and her voice is magically amplified to soar over the crowd.

“ _Hear me, Hogwarts! We won't let them silence us! We will be heard! We will fight back!”_

Lily is still clutching Sev's arm as they struggle their way through the crowd towards where Marlene stands next to Cresswell, just below Mary.

They have to shout to be heard over Mary and the crowd.

Marlene greets them. “Oh, hello! She looks like she belongs up there, doesn't she?” She nods at Mary, who is radiant.

“Yeah, she does.” Agrees Lily.”

Marlene notices Severus.

“I see you decided to join us in the end. Good on you.”

He nods stiffly, and Lily beams at him.

James Potter lurches out of the crowd at them.

“Alright, Evans?”

“Yeah, Potter. I'm fine.” She says.

He, too, notices Severus and looks thrown.

“What's he doing here?”

Lily sniffs. “He _chose_ to be here, didn't he?”

Fully validated in her friendship with Severus, she grabs his shoulder and turns him so that they have their back to Potter, and they watch Mary.

_“From this day on, Hogwarts will be safe for everyone, not just the privileged elite. We're not going to let anybody threaten us, nor hurt us, ever again!”_

* * *

The fifth year Slytherins are hurrying along a corridor when they run into Mulciber and Rosier. Both of them have their wands out, stormy expressions on their faces..

“There you are,” says Wilkes.

“We got sick of listening to the Mudblood whinging,” says Rosier.

Mulciber looks them over. “Severus isn't with you?”

Wilkes gives a humourless laugh. “ _Severus_ stood up and pranced out as soon as his girlfriend snapped her fingers, didn't he.”

Mulciber's face betrays only the merest flicker of surprise and anger, which he subdues quickly.

“Let's go then. We'll show them who this school belongs to.”

“How are we going to do that?” Asks Shea. “It's half the bloody school out there in case you haven't heard.”

“Oh, I doubt most of them signed on for a fight. First sign of trouble and they'll scatter.” Says Mulciber.

“Yeah, that or they'll mob us.” Says Shea.

“If you're too much of a coward, Shea, feel free to sit it out.” Snarls Rosier.

Shea shrugs moodily, resigned to going along with them.

* * *

Marlene drops back to stand with James Potter and his friends. She’s never quite sure what to say to Severus, on the rare occasion that he’s around. Thankfully, Lily seems to have cottoned on to the fact that he doesn’t mix very well with her other friends, and keeps them well seperated.

“You aren't saying much, Potter. Makes a nice change.”

He grins at her. “Very funny McKinnon. I'm listening, aren't I?”

She shrugs, amused.

Marlene decides to probe a little. “Dorcas was asking about you.”

“Yeah?” His hand jumps to his hair, ruffling it up stupidly. She has to suppress a laugh— James Potter really is quite lovable underneath it all.

 “Yeah. Can't see why. How's your mum, Remus?”

“Doing better, thank you.” Says Remus. Marlene always wonders whether it really is his mum who’s sick. Poor Remus always looks awful.

“Good to hear it. I'm never really sure what to do at these things, are you? I suppose turning up is the important part, isn't it.”

James glares bitterly at Snape’s back. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“Personally,” says Sirius. “I thought there'd be more of a fight. I'm surprised the Slytherins are just going to take this lying down.”

But Peter has turned away from the fountain, pointing. “I don't reckon they are. Look.”

They turn, and Marlene’s heart jumps into her throat.

A group of Slytherins is coming down the wide corridor entrance. Mulciber and Rosier are in the lead. They look absolutely ready to murder, scarier than Marlene’s ever seen them, wands out and dark robes swirling around their determined strides.

“Oh, bollocks. Mary!” Marlene dives forward through the crowd towards her friend. 

_“Here they are, then, ladies and gents, the ruling class! What are you going to do then, Mulciber? We're not scared of you!”_

Mary, atop the fountain, glares at the oncoming Slytherins. She sees Mulciber slow at the edge of the courtyard, stopping Rosier and the others. He regards her with a soft smile, and holds her gaze. There’s something awfully penetrating about the way he looks at her…

She frowns, uncomfortable, and breaks away to speak into her microphone.

_“They think just because they're born into privilege that they have more of a right to be here than we do- are we going to stand for that?”_

The crowd roars dissent.

Rosier strides forward, utterly fearless, cracking his wand like a whip. A blast goes off like a gunshot.

Students scream and scatter. Rosier carves a swathe through the terrified crowd like the parting of the red sea. Everyone at Hogwarts knows his reputation.

“Come down here, MacDonald!” He yells. “Let's see how brave you really are.”

Mary feels Lily tugging on her sleeve.

“Oh _don't_ , Mary, he's only trying to get a rise out of you.”

Rosier laughs at her. “Scared to face me, you filthy little Mudblood?”

Mary whips out her wand. “Fuck it. Out of my way!”

She hops down from the fountain. The crowd moves back, clearing a circle as she and Rosier circle each other.

“Bow on three,” says Rosier.

She spits on the grass. “I'm not bowing to you, scumbag.”

His face darkens. “I said _bow_ , you little mudblood upstart. Or have you never been taught what a proper wizard's duel is like?”

She bows, exaggerated and mocking. He bows properly, formally...

“Stupefy!”

Mary fires the first shot, and Rosier reacts instantly. The duel bursts into a frenzy of lights and sparks, each one moving faster than the eye can see.

“This is insane!” Lily says to Severus anxiously. “People are going to get hurt!”

“Maybe we ought to get a professor,” he says nervously. He’s eyeing Mulciber and the others, his expression unreadable. Lily nods, bites her lip.

“You’re right, I’ll go,” she says.

Rosier's teeth are gritted in concentration, his wand slashing through the air in brutal strikes. He deflects one spell, dodges another, then fires back.

It misses Mary by centimetres, singing the sleeve of her jacket. She snarls and returns the favour with an explosive volley of magical projectiles that spiral towards him like firecrackers.

Rosier deflects most of them, but the last glances off his shoulder. He's snarls, furious, and gears up for a powerful counterattack.

But his spell misses, arcing wide—

It hits Marlene squarely in the chest. Her face briefly registers shock, and then she crumples and falls to the floor.

“MARLENE!”

She hurries to Marlene’s side, turning her over. She's out cold, breathing but barely.

Rosier pauses to catch his breath, surveying his handiwork and wiping sweat from his brow. His shoulder is obviously in some pain.

Mary screams at him. “YOU BASTARD! I'll kill you, you bastard!

Rosier grins, takes aim again but is suddenly blasted backwards.

Mary turns, sees Dirk Cresswell, who has come to stand protectively in front of the girls. Mary scrambles back onto her feet. They stand shoulder to shoulder, wands at the ready.

“Cheers,” she says.

He looks at her. “Don’t mention it.”

Things have descended into madness around them, and several Slytherins are pushing their way into the fight.

Seeing this, James and Sirius step up behind Mary.

The one on one duel is now an all-out brawl. Mary and Rosier are still going at it, Cresswell takes on Avery and James and Sirius square off with Mulciber. The crowd is dissipating, and people are trying to get away from the chaos.

On the edge of it, Shea and Nicola debate.

“Come on Nicola, we should just leave before any professors get here.”

“You don't think that girl's dead, do you? Forget expulsion, Rosier'll be in Azkaban tomorrow if she is.”

“She's probably not dead, Nicola, come on.”

“You don't know Rosier like I do,” Nicola says darkly. “He shoots to kill.”

Sirius and James are duelling as a flawless team. Between the two of them they have Mulciber pinned against a wall.

“Not so bloody tough now, are you?” Says James.

He growls. “It's two against one, Potter, and I'm holding my own.”

Nicola is pushing through the crowd, and Shea follows her.

She's hit by a stray spell and goes down.

“Nicola!” Shea yells. He scoops her up and takes her out of harm's way, looking around at the chaos.

On the edge of the courtyard, Mulciber is still holding out against James and Sirius. But Mary MacDonald whoops as she gets a good shot in on Rosier and this distracts him—

James presses the advantage.

“Expelliarmus!”

Mulciber's wand goes flying through the air and James effortlessly catches it. He grins cockily at Mulciber, who is done for—

But then James is swept up into the air, dangling upside down by his ankle. Mulciber's wand falls from his grasp.

Sirius whirls around – Severus Snape stands there, breathing heavily and wand still aloft. Mulciber snatches up his wand.

Before anything else can happen, a loud booming voice echoes across the courtyard like a roll of thunder.

“ENOUGH!”

Albus Dumbledore steps out into the courtyard, taking in the scene. Everyone freezes, staring at him.

Lily peers anxiously around Dumbledore. Marlene, unconscious, is being carried by two students—

There's a second of absolute silence, and then it starts raining harder even than before. James hits the ground facefirst.

Professor McGonagall hurries forward to Marlene’s side. “We need to get these students to the hospital wing,” she says. “As for the rest of you…"

* * *

The portraits of old headmasters peer curiously down at the students, still soaking wet, gathered in Dumbledore’s office.

Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, and Snape stand together. A short but deliberate distance away are Mary, Cresswell, James, and Sirius. James is half-covered in mud. The still bubbling tension and hatred between the two groups is palpable. This fight is not over, not really.

Dumbledore sits behind his desk, hands steepled in front of him. McGonagall is standing at his side, looking irate.

“An all-out magical brawl in the courtyard?” She says furiously. “What were you _thinking_? It’s lucky more students weren’t injured.”

Mary stares hatefully at the Slytherins. “They started it.”

McGonagall stares down at her, nostrils flaring. “Did they, MacDonald? We allowed you to hold your rally because you promised it would remain _peaceful_. And did it? Certainly not. We have no reason to trust anything you tell us.”

Mary looks away, shamed. Mulciber is staring at her. She glares at him and mouths _what?_   aggressively, before turning back to the professors.

Dumbledore is also watching her. “I heard your speech, Miss MacDonald.”

“You did?” Mary says uncertainly.

“Yes, and I thought you made some rather excellent points. Particularly about making Hogwarts a safe place for everyone. Do you think violence is the way to achieve this goal?”

“Sometimes. It depends.”

He looks at her, thoughtfully.

“As for the rest of you... the time is fast approaching when you have to choose what sort of path your life will lead you down. One of violence, and hatred? Or one of love and compassion? Professor McGonagall and I can't decide for you. But we can do our best to guide you through these difficult times unscathed.”

“We've decided to give all of you detentions every school night for the now until the holidays,” adds McGonagall. “You will be helping Mr. Filch with his custodial duties. Believe me, this is merciful. If anything- _anything_ like this occurs again, it will be much worse for all of you.”

She looks at James.

“We thought about revoking your rights to play Quidditch—”

James and Dirk interject with outrage.

“Oh, that's hardly fair!”

“Yeah, what about them?”

She presses on. “—but, in light of the upcoming Quidditch match, we decided against it. Two students were injured because of your stupidity, including your third chaser.”

Dumbledore turns his gaze to James as well. “I did not wish to rob Gryffindor of their other two chasers, and the captain to boot... From you, James, I expected better.”

James hangs his head, shamefaced.

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.”

“We'll be writing to your parents, of course. I can only hope you've learnt your lesson.”

* * *

In the hospital wing, Marlene is blearily being spoonfed medicine by Madam Pomfrey.

“Ooh. I feel absolutely awful.”

Madam Pomfrey makes a disapproving noise. “Whatever spell that boy hit you with, it was powerful. We don't teach that sort of magic here at Hogwarts. I can only imagine where he might've picked it up.”

Marlene rubs at her chest, which is still painful.

“Lucky for you, some students got you here as soon as possible. Looks like no serious damage has been done. You should be up and about in a few days. Just need plenty of rest now.”

“What happened exactly? Was anyone else hurt?”

Pomfrey eyes her silently then nods, stepping away. On the opposite side of the ward Marlene sees Nicola Selwyn sitting up in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Corrin Shea is by her side, talking to her in a hushed tone.

“Merlin, will you stop fussing over me?” Nicola says. She knows Corrin’s only worried, but honestly, she’s fine.

“Can't help it. You nearly gave me a heart attack when you went down like that. Why'd you have to go charging in?”

Nicola's eyes travel down to Marlene McKinnon, who averts her gaze.

“I don't know,” she says carefully. “I wasn't thinking.” It’s partially true. Nicola has no idea why the urge to save Marlene McKinnon suddenly came over her, but her moment of selflessness came with a price.

“Well that's obvious. D'you need anything? I'll stay here if you want.”

She takes his hand, trying to reassure him.

“Oh Corrin. I'll be alright, really. I just need some rest. You go.”

“I'll stay, it's no trouble.”

“Thanks, but... I won't sleep a wink with you hovering over me like a mother hen. Go on, I'll be fine.”

He relents.

“Alright. Rest up. I'll be by in the morning.”

She nods, and he leans over to kiss her forehead, brushing her hair aside gently.

He leaves, and Nicola examines her fingernails for a minute before looking up and catching McKinnon still looking at her.

“What are you looking at?

“Nothing.”

“Didn't look like it.”

McKinnon frowns at her. “So you were in the fight?”

“No, I was…” She trails off as she realises she doesn't really know what she was doing.

“All I remember is Mary and your friend Rosier going at it—"

Nicola interrupts her. “He's not my friend.”

“Oh yeah? It seems like you spend an awful lot of time together.”

“Don't care what it seems like to you.”

“Fine, I was only curious.”

Nicola sighs. “Look, if you think I'm like Rosier, I'm not. Neither is Corrin. But that doesn't mean we're like you, either.”

“Right, you hate muggleborns and all that.”

Nicola scoffs, doesn’t reply.

“Well. This is fun. How long are you in for?” Marlene asks.

“A few days at least. You?”

“Same.”

They look at each other in horror, realising how much time they're going to have to spend in the same room.

* * *

Lily isn't sure what to say.

Mary is sitting on the window sill and staring out at the rain-streaked landscape. They’re the last ones in the common room.

“Have you been to see Marlene yet?” Lily asks finally.

Mary turns away from the window. “Yeah. Reckon she's going to be alright, only they've put her across from Nicola Selwyn of all people.”

Lily makes a face. She can hardly imagine a worse fate. “Poor Marlene.”

“You know it wasn't my fault things turned out that way, don't you?” Mary says uncertainly.

Lily smiles softly at her. “I know. You never asked for the Slytherins to come and start trouble. They did that on their own.”

Mary shrugs. “Maybe I shouldn't've risen to Rosier's bait, but all I could think was how people needed to see how we can fight back and win, too. I would've won.”

“Yeah, I heard you knocked him off his high horse. About time someone did.”

They exchange grins, the mood lightened a little.

“I don't think Dumbledore's right, though.” Mary says suddenly.

Lily frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well, in his office he was saying how we ought to choose a path of nonviolence and harmony and all of that rot.”

“Shouldn't we?”

“If we have a choice, yeah, brilliant. But I'm starting to think none of us have. Especially people like you and me. If someone tries to hurt me you'd better believe I'll try and hurt them back. If someone takes a swing at you, you fight back don't you? You don't stand there preaching like bloody Mahatma Gandhi and let yourself get hit, do you?”

“S'pose not... Nobody here would even know who Mahatma Gandhi is, would they?”

Mary shrugs. “Point is, Rosier's got to pay for what he did to Marlene. One way or another.”

“Oh I wish you wouldn't do anything stupid, Mary. You're already in enough trouble as it is.”

Mary laughs weakly. “I am in rather a lot, aren't I?”

“Mary, I know people think I'm an awful prig—"

Mary interrupts. “They don't think that!”

Lily ploughs on. “But I want to keep fighting as well. I want to do more. I don't want to give up. But we'll be smart about it, alright?”

Mary looks at her, amused, then grabs her with one arm and pulls her in for an affectionate noogie. “C'mere, you. I love you.”

“Love you too. Ow, my hair, Mary, my hair—"

“Sorry.” She lets Lily go. “I've never been prouder than I am now. I've raised you well.”

“Oh, leave it out.” Says Lily in exasperation, but she's smiling a little too much.

“Things are gonna be different from now on,” Mary says, staring out of the window again.

* * *

The greenish light from the lake filters through the windows of the Slytherin common room.

They are gathered around the sofa near the fireplace. Only Selwyn and Shea are missing. Other students are giving them a wide berth, perhaps out of fear or respect.

Snape stands before them, waiting to be judged as if by the unholy tribunal.

“You didn't see him,” Wilkes is saying in disgust. “Standing up like a trained dog when the mudblood called him. He'll never live this down, never.”

Mulciber eyes him. “And how soon are _you_ going to live it down, Devereux?”

Wilkes blinks, confused. “Live what down?”

“Where were you when the fighting started? All of us were in the thick of it— me, Evan, Preston, and even Severus. I notice you didn't fire a single spell, nor did you get in detention.”

“Yeah, that's right.” Says Avery.

Wilkes shrugs uncomfortably. “Seemed like you had it covered.”

Rosier glares over at him from beside the fireplace. “You ought to be ashamed.”

“I'm sure he is, Evan.” Mulciber says, eyes glittering. “Very ashamed indeed, isn't that right?”

Wilkes certainly looks so.

“As for you, Severus—” Continues Mulciber. Severus stiffens. “You might have embarrassed yourself this morning, but you showed your true loyalties when it came down to it, didn't you? Your spellwork was impressive too... I've never seen that jinx before, what was it?”

“I— actually, it's my own spell. It’s called levicorpus.”

Mulciber regards him, interested.

“You'll have to teach it to us sometime. For now, I'd like to hear what you know about this Mary MacDonald, seeing as you have a common… acquaintance.”

Severus frowns. “About Mary? Not much, really, she's friends with Lil— with Evans but she's never liked me very much. She's rather rude actually, at least to me.”

“Tough for a mudblood. Didn't expect that.” Grunts Rosier.

“We need to be prepared for tougher fights than that,” says Mulciber. “Soon enough there's not going to be any teachers around to save the day.”

 “No, but there'll always be Aurors and that, won't there?” Says Avery.

“Will there?” Says Mulciber delicately.

They all consider the implications.

Mulciber pats the sofa next to him. “Why don't you come and sit down with me, Severus.”

Severus does so, relieved Mulciber has forgiven him so easily.

“I've been giving the Lily Evans matter some thought. Turning it over and over in my mind. And I believe I understand.”

Severus stares at him. “You do?”

“Oh yes. We can't control our base desires, can we, Severus. All we can do is learn to manage them.”

He shares a look with Rosier.

“She's a distraction, an obsession. That's all. You're a great wizard, Severus. You deserve better. Look at how she treats you, she thinks she’s too good for you.”

This, thinks Severus, has some truth to it. Lily is always telling him what he shouldn’t do, who he shouldn’t be friends with. She looks down on him, just like the rest of her house.

“I s'pose so, yeah... maybe you're right.”

Mulciber nods, hand on his shoulder.

“Great wizards, Sev, like you and me... and even _him_...”

The mere mention of _him_ sends shivers of excitement around the group.

“I'll tell you something about great wizards...” Continues Mulciber. “We see what we want, and we take it.”


	3. Bait and Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the protest, tensions are running higher than ever, and Severus grows more determined than ever to find out what the Marauders are up to. Meanwhile, someone is following Mary.

James pulls to a halt in midair, grinning. “Alright, looking good! Chasers and beaters— and you too Benjy— let's try that one last time and then call it a day.”

Cresswell and McKinnon form up behind him, and like an arrow they dive towards the goal hoops, passing the Quaffle between them faster than the eye can see. The beaters, fourth years Daren Turner and Todd Kane, form an honour guard slightly beneath them.

The chasers spiral around each other in a helix, the Quaffle a red blur as it dances from one to the other to the other— upon reaching the goal hoops, the Quaffle is in James' possession— he takes the shot—

But it's blocked by a grinning Benjy Fenwick.

“Ooh. So close, Potter.”

James rolls his eyes, but he can’t be too annoyed. “Yeah, yeah, leave it out Fenwick. That was a good save.”

“Cheers. Say, isn't that your good-looking friend over there?”

“Who?”

James turns and looks to the stands where Fenwick is pointing— Sirius has edged his way into a seat, and he waves as the team descends onto the pitch.

“You think _he's_ handsome?” James says indignantly. “What about me?”

“I won't answer that on the grounds that I'd like to keep my position on the team,” says Fenwick, and the team— all except James— laughs.

“Don't worry, Potter, I've heard Dorcas Meadowes doesn't think you're half bad.” Marlene pipes up.

“Is she blind?” Says Cresswell with a snicker.

“Yeah, very funny.” Says James. “Listen, we played brilliantly today. Play like that at the match and Slytherin don't stand a chance.”

“We'll flatten them.” Marlene says.

“They won't know what's hit them,” agrees Cresswell.

The team bumps fists, full of confidence and camaraderie.

“Glad to have you out of the Hospital Wing, Marlene.” Says James as they head to the changing rooms, broomsticks slung over their shoulders.

“Not as glad as I am. Any longer in that place and I would have gone raving mad.”

“Yeah, I heard they put you up across from the succubus herself. Must've been a nightmare.”

Marlene doesn’t reply, looks away.

James claps her on the shoulder sympathetically. “Well, you lot go on and hit the showers then.” He says. “I'll be along in a minute.”

He gets back on his broomstick as they troop out, kicking off the ground and soaring into the stands where Sirius sits. He dismounts with ease, resting the broomstick on a bench.

“Look who it is,” says James, grinning widely. “Happy birthday, mate, come here.”

Sirius stands up and James pulls him in for an embrace.

“How does sixteen feel, then? All it's cracked up to be?”

Sirius shrugs. “Nah, still feel like the exact same person. I reckon he's alright, though, so I'm not complaining.”

James laughs. “Yeah, he’s alright. I didn't expect to see you so early on so I didn't bring your present with me. I'll give it you later— what else do you want to do today? We can skive off if you want!”

“Better not, we're already full up on detentions as it is.” Says Sirius.

James eyes him, amused. “Since when are you so sensible? Must be your advanced age...” He dodges a friendly punch from Sirius. “Well, whatever you want today, mate, consider it done.”

“Thanks,” says Sirius softly.

They descend the stands, James grabbing his broomstick and hoisting it over his shoulder.

“How was practise then?”

“Really good,” replies James honestly. “I reckon we're really shaping up. We ought to send Slytherin home packing.”

They head under the stands, through a door into the changing room, where most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team is getting dressed, freshly showered.

“Are you even allowed in here, Black?” Calls Cresswell from the other side of the lockers.

“Yeah, there's girls changing here and all.” Marlene says. She's buttoning up her school shirt, clearly not very bothered about all the other boys in the room.

“Don't flatter yourself, McKinnon. Besides, you don't seem to care about the rest of them.” Sirius points out.

“Well they hardly count as boys, do they?”

“Oi!” Says Cresswell indignantly.

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Right, well, I'm going to shower. Won't be a moment.” Says James to Sirius.

He pulls his kit off over his head as he walks, flinging it on a nearby bench with abandon. Sirius sits on a bench to wait.

On his way into the shower, James crosses paths with Fenwick coming out, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Make sure you scrub behind your ears, Potter.”

“Piss off.”

He heads in, and Fenwick goes to his locker— right next to where Sirius sits.

Fenwick barely glances at him, then frowns and looks at him again. “Oh, _you're_ here.”

Sirius frowns back. He’s never really quite been able to figure this bloke out, and it sets him a little on edge.

“Yeah, I s'pose I am.”

“Black, isn't it? I heard your little brother's playing seeker for the Slytherins this year.”

Sirius shrugs, full of casual nonchalance. “Is he? To be honest with you I try not to pay attention to whatever that little twat's doing if I can help it.”

Fenwick looks at him with sympathy. “Yeah, I know how that is. You know that slimy little Slytherin prefect, Wilkes? Well, we're cousins. I don't know who's more ashamed of the other to be honest. His family doesn't speak to mine, hasn't for years since my mum married a muggle.”

“I can't imagine what my family'd do if I married a muggle,” says Sirius.

“Old wizarding families, right? They're all the same, though I've heard the Blacks are particularly nasty. Present company excepted of course.”

“Right.”

“Don't worry- our Aisha's going to make your brother wish he'd never touched a broomstick. Best seeker I've ever seen, even though she's tiny.”

Aisha, a very small second year, looks over from where she's packing up her things and smiles. “Cheers, Fenwick.”

He nods at her as she leaves, and turns back to Sirius.

“Good on you for getting away from all that. It must've taken courage. I s'pose that's why you're in Gryffindor, isn't it.”

“Could be,” says Sirius cryptically.

Fenwick regards him with amusement. He adjusts his tie, looks at himself in the mirror inside of his locker and fixes a few out of place strands.

“Man of few words, aren't you, Black? Well, doesn't matter if you're shy. I'm not.”

Sirius has no idea what to say to that.

“See you around, then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Fenwick nods, shouldering his bag and exiting the locker room.

“Well, that was weird.” Marlene comments. “He's so weird. See you later, Black.”

She leaves too, closely followed by Dirk Cresswell. Sirius sits for a minute, now alone, idly turning the conversation over in his mind.

Finally, James emerges from the shower, toweling his hair dry. He starts to get dressed, and sees the look on Sirius’ face.

“Alright?

“Yeah. That Fenwick...”

“What about him?”

Sirius hesitates. “Dunno. He gives me an odd feeling, that's all.”

“Yeah, he gives us all an odd feeling. But he's a damn good keeper, so I don't much care.”

He pulls on his school jumper, then ruffles his hair in the locker mirror.

“Coming then?”

Sirius nods, jumping to his feet.

* * *

Mary walks alone along the pumpkin patch, near Hagrid's hut. She is lost in thought, one hand buried deep in the pockets of her coat.

The other holds a cigarette, and is a little shaky as she brings it to her mouth and takes a drag.

The smoke spirals up into the grey sky and she watches it pensively. Then she keeps walking, nearing the edge of the ominous Forbidden Forest. Darkness seems to seep through the low-hanging, mossy branches of the trees, and it's all a little too quiet...

CRACK! A twig snaps somewhere behind her, and she whips around, wand out...

There's nothing there.

Her heart is racing, but she decides to ignore it and continue her walk and her smoke. She climbs up a stone-dotted grassy hill.

Behind her, a raven is startled by something and flies away, cawing loudly. She turns, but again, there is nothing.

Now very on edge, Mary reaches the stone circle and tosses her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stamp it out or look back as she hurries across the wooden covered bridge that leads back to the castle.

In front of one the rocks, something that was blending perfectly with the stone moves and shimmers. Slowly, the disillusionment charm melts away and Mulciber steps towards the centre of the circle.

He moves forward and inspects the cigarette end. It's still smoking slightly, and the faint red mark of her lipstick is visible.

He regards it, then steps on it to put it out and leaves.

* * *

The portrait hole swings shut behind them as the Marauders exit the common room. The Fat Lady is snoozing gently, leaning on her hand.

“You go on ahead,” says James suddenly. “I've got to get something.”

Sirius nods. “Alright, don't take too long. Breakfast is nearly over.”

“I'll only be a minute.”

Sirius, Peter, and Remus head down the corridor. James waits a moment until they’re gone, then looks around furtively before ducking under a nearby tapestry into a dusty little room filled with empty picture frames and covered boxes.

He moves a few frames out of the way— under them is a small, rectangular package, brightly and lovingly wrapped. James snatches it up, tucks it under his arm and pushes his way back out of the tapestry— he freezes.

Severus Snape is now standing awkwardly in the hallway, and sees him come out, mouth opening in surprise. James, caught, stares at him.

“What are you doing here?” James demands, as if popping suddenly out of a tapestry isn’t much more suspicious.

“Waiting for Lily, aren't I?”

“Stalking her more like.”

Severus ignores this, eyes narrowing. He moves towards the tapestry, blocking James. “What were you doing in there? What's back there?

James rolls his eyes and shrugs it off, trying to walk past him.

“What I do is none of your business. It's just a hidden storage room. Nothing in there but dusty portraits and boxes.”

“I don't believe you.”

James stops, looking at him with distaste. “Fine,” he says hatefully. “Then have a look for yourself.”

He puts his hand on Sev's back and roughly shoves him at the tapestry. Severus stumbles forward into it, landing on the ground halfway into the room. James laughs unkindly at his misfortune.

“Wanker.”

James starts to leave, but Severus scrambles to his feet and points his wand at him, breathing heavily.

“Stay where you are.”

James stops, looking at it fearlessly.

“What are you going to do with that? Jinx me again?”

“I've half a mind to. Or worse.”

“You're _pathetic_ ,” spits James. “Does Evans know what side you were really fighting on at the protest?”

“Shut up! What's Lily got to do with this, anyway?”

James hesitates, then answers defensively. “I just reckon she can do better than you, that's all.”

“Oh yeah? Like who—"

Something clicks in Severus's mind mid-sentence, and he stops and stares at James with a new horror.

“You— _you_?" He stammers.

"Me what?" James says viciously. “Were I you, mate, I'd give it up already. A bird like Evans is never going to go for a bloke like you. You must know that.”

“At least _I'm_ her friend.”

James is stung, but recovers quickly. “And that's all you'll ever be, isn't it? I'd wager soon enough you won't even be that.”

Severus snarls in anger, and instinctively fires a curse. James dodges it, laughing— less with genuine mirth and more designed to provoke, bitter and harsh.

“ _Depulso_!”

Severus is propelled backwards, slamming forcefully against the wall and crumpling onto the floor. His ears are ringing.

Potter looms over him. “Do Evans, and all of us, a favour— find some wretched hole to crawl in and _die_.”

With that he leaves, and Severus has no more willpower to stop him.

He blindly pushes his way into the room behind the tapestry and sinks to the floor between some boxes, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Silent sobs wrack his body and he cries it out, rocking back and forth and unable to control the streaming of his eyes and nose or the shaking of his shoulders.

* * *

James finally arrives down at the Great Hall, just as the clock chimes and the enormous doors open, allowing hundreds of kids to flood out, streaming towards their first classes. He spots his friends and makes a beeline for them.

“What's kept you? You missed breakfast.” Says Sirius.

“Sorry, ran into Snivellus and he tried to curse my bollocks off.”

“What?” Says Remus, aghast. “You should report him!”

“Nah, we'll just get him back later.” Says Sirius.

Remus doesn't look too happy with that as James tucks the present away in his robes.

“I'll give it you later, Sirius, sorry mate. It just takes some explaining.”

Sirius shrugs. “No trouble. Let's get to charms then.”

They look at him oddly.

“What?”

“Sirius, it's Monday today. We've got potions first thing on Mondays.”

“Oh, right. Well in that case, let's get to potions.”

* * *

Lily and Marlene wait at the top of the staircase that leads to the Dungeons.

“There you are,” says Lily when she sees Mary hurrying towards them. “I was beginning to worry.”

“Sorry,” Mary mumbles. “Been having a weird morning.”

Lily opens her mouth to ask her about it, but just then James Potter and his friends arrive.

“Nice to see you with your top on, McKinnon.” Says Sirius Black, smirking.

“Nice to- actually, it's not nice to see you at all, honestly.” Replies Marlene, coolly.

The Marauders laugh at him as they pass, heading down the stairwell.

“What was all that about?” Asks Mary curiously.

Marlene shrugs. “Oh, he was hanging about in the locker room after practise this morning. I think he might have a seizure if he stays away from Potter too long.”

“You and him seem friendly,” Mary says slyly.

Lily, however, crosses her arms. “You don't fancy him, do you? Because Sirius Black is nothing but trouble.”

“Oh, no, 'course not. He's gorgeous, of course, but I know better than to fall for it. Besides, he's not my type.” She says, waving the thought away.

“Yeah and what is your type, Marlene?” Asks Mary. “I've never seen you interested in a bloke, never.”

“I'm just picky, that's all. Boys at this school can just be so... immature, can't they.”

Cresswell skids to a halt beside them, gasping for breath. “Am I late? Why aren’t you lot in class?”

“We’ve still got ten minutes,” says Mary. She plucks at his robes. “You’ve got this on inside out, did you know?”

He looks down. “Ah, shite. Bugger.” Cresswell pulls his robes over his head as he descends the staircase.

The three girls exchange looks.

“Marlene’s got a point,” says Lily.

“Yeah, maybe.” Mary says. “I s'pose we can only wait and see and hope they improve by the time we leave school.”

“Oh, I doubt it.” Lily says loftily.

Marlene eyes her other friend significantly. “But Cresswell’s sort of sweet, isn’t he, Mary?”

“Yeah, s’pose so...” Mary trails off, looking around nervously.

“What's eating you, then?” Asks Lily concernedly.

Mary frowns. “I don't know... I keep thinking someone's been following me. I know it sounds mental, but I just keep having this _feeling_ — oh I don't know.”

“Someone's been following you? Like who?”

“Couldn't be Rosier, looking for revenge, could it?” Says Marlene.

“I don't think so. I mean, he's a twisted bastard, isn't he, but I think he'd just come out and face me if that's what he wanted. It's probably nothing, you know how I get.”

“Well alright, but you ought to be careful, you hear me?” Says Lily. “You're not exactly the most popular girl in school at the moment.”

This gets a little grin out of Mary.

“I'm really not, am I?”

They descend a narrow spiral stairway into the dungeons.

The last of the students are trickling into the class. Lily and Marlene head in, but Mary lingers, peering down the corridor but seeing nothing.

“Coming, Mary?”

“Yeah. Sorry!"

She shakes it off and goes in.

* * *

 

Rosier sits alone in front of the fire, brooding. He watches the flames flicker in the grate.

Presently, Mulciber enters the common room and sees him, crossing over to join him on the sofa.

“Didn't fancy going to class either, I see.”

Rosier scoffs. “Defence Against the Dark Arts. What a joke. As if wizards need to defend ourselves from our truest birthright. All this school does is teach us to suppress our power. Make us into harmless puppets for the sake of decorum. It makes me sick.”

“Don't worry. We'll be gone from here soon enough. But our work is important. For now, this is where we're needed.”

“I know that, but the longer I'm here the harder it gets to remember. Some days I just want to make them all hurt. Like that mudblood MacDonald- she made me look like a fool, all because I had to control myself and not use any spells that would give me away.”

Mulciber pats his arm consolingly.“I know it's hard, Evan. You did well. He'll be pleased, with both of us.”

Rosier nods, trying to reassure himself.

“Maybe you should leave MacDonald to me,” says Mulciber thoughtfully.

“You have something in mind?”

“She'll regret ever having challenged us.” Mulciber stares into the fire, watching the reflection of the flames leap across the shiny black stone.

* * *

“And make sure you scrub your cauldrons out properly this time.” Slughorn says, as his students hurry to pack up their things.  “I'm not having any more accidents in here just because someone was too lazy to scrape powdered erumpent horn off the sides.”

 “Remember your essays are due at the end of the week! We've got a lot of ground left to cover to get you all ready for your OWL, and it doesn't help that we're behind a day because of that fiasco on Friday.”

“It was hardly a fiasco, sir.” Says Mary loudly. “I reckon it did exactly what it was supposed to.”

She glares over at the Slytherins, receiving some dirty looks in exchange.

Slughorn tuts. “Yes, well, we may have differing opinions on that, Miss MacDonald. Still, I daresay you have a right to yours, so long as it doesn't impede you from turning in your essay on time.”

“No, sir.”

She finishes packing up and hurries out of the classroom with her friends.

Outside the door, Marlene hangs back.

“You two go on ahead. I've just got to check something about my essay.”

“Alright,” says Lily, and she and Mary depart. Marlene waits, casually leaning against the door as students file out, then finally the Slytherins.

“You've been looking downright miserable, Snape.” Avery says over his shoulder. “More than usual, at any rate. Has something happened?”

“Oh let him alone, he's just _sensitive_.” Sneers Nicola Selwyn as she exits after him.

Marlene catches Nicola by the elbow. She stares up at Marlene, offended.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Demands Corrin Shea.

Marlene takes a deep breath. “I just want a word with Nicola.”

“ _Nicola_?” Repeats Shea incredulously. “She's Selwyn to you.”

“It's fine, Corrin, just go on without me.” Says Nicola, patting his arm. He glares suspiciously back at them as they leave.

Nicola rounds on Marlene. “What do you think you're playing at?”

“I don't know— you haven't said two words to me since we left the hospital wing.”

“And why would I?” Says Nicola loftily. “We aren't friends.”

“No, maybe we aren't, but we're—“ Marlene pauses, struggles to find the words. “Well, we talked, didn't we? I told you stuff that even my friends don't know about me, and you told me—"

“Don't you _dare_ repeat any of it to anyone.”

“I haven't! I wouldn't.”

“Good. But I don't know what you expected. Thought we'd be friends skipping ‘round the school arm in arm, singing songs?”

“Not that, but I thought... I don't know. I s'pose it doesn't matter what I thought.”

Nicola relents a little, heaving a sigh. “Look, it's just not meant to be. I've got my friends and you've got yours. I think it was just easy for us to talk to each other when we were in there.”

Marlene nods. “Yeah, it felt good to talk to someone. If I tried to tell my friends about all that they'd look at me so differently, I couldn't bear it..."

Nicola eyes her thoughtfully. “Listen, you know what I said about those charms? That offer still stands.”

“Oh I don't know, it sounds a bit dangerous.” Says Marlene uncertainly.

“It is dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. But I'll be there with you, won't I?”

Marlene looks at her, bites her lip.

* * *

 The transfiguration classroom is long, well-lit, with rows of desks facing a raised platform where Professor McGonagall stands near hers. A small, ridiculously adorable albino rabbit sits on her desk, nose twitching, and more animals rustle from large cages around the room.

The Gryffindors have just started their lesson when Marlene comes tearing in, drawing the eyes of all her classmates.

“Late again, Miss McKinnon?”

“I'm so sorry, Professor, I just got caught up—"

“I don't want to hear it, Miss McKinnon. Take a seat, and that'll be five points from Gryffindor for tardiness.”

This hits Marlene a little harder than it would ordinarily, and she closes her eyes as she sinks into her chair.

“What took you so long?” Mary hisses at her.

“I was—"

“No chatter, Miss McKinnon, or I'll have to dock further points.” Snaps McGonagall.

Marlene shuts up.

“Now as you're no doubt tired of hearing, your OWLs are imminent and it's my job to make sure as many of you pass as possible. Of course, there is only so much one can teach, and some people refuse to ever learn at all- but as your teacher, all I can do is my best. I expect the very same from each and every one of you.”

The students look around at each other warily.

“This year, you can't afford to take any of your classes lightly if you want to have any hope of succeeding in life. That means doing your homework, participating to your fullest extent in classes, and, when you can, _being on time_.”

Marlene sighs, shamefaced.

“Today we'll be covering what is called Transfigurative Potential, that is, transfigurations that are cast at one specific time but can then be activated at any other, with minimal effort.”

McGonagall taps the rabbit and it turns into a white flower. She taps it again and it turns back.

“The difficulty lies in that the actual object, 'z', must at all times comprise the essence of both 'x'- the model- and 'y'- the product- as well as the magical potential to be transfigured from one into the other. This can be understood as the following...”

She erases the blackboard with a wave of her wand and starts scribbling with chalk:

t=([x > y]/p)

“Now, when attempting to cast these spells without allowing for this idea, you may run into difficulties and results that make no sense. Each transfiguration will be unique, but _understanding_ this basic sub-algorithm is key.”

Marlene looks around to see James has perked up with interest, scribbling madly on his parchment. He looks up, hanging on McGonagall’s every word. Marlene rolls her eyes. Bloody teacher’s pet.

“And you see, it really is quite simple, although—” McGonagall is interrupted by the door opening and Mulciber entering.

“I assume you have a good reason for interrupting my class, Mr. Mulciber?”

“Yes, sorry Professor.” He says contritely. “Professor Slughorn sent me to fetch a student.”

“And which student might that be? You'll have to be a bit more specific.”

“Mary MacDonald. He said he has to have a word with her, something about an essay.”

Mary doesn’t move, heart suddenly hammering in her chest. The other Gryffindors are staring; she can see Lily and Marlene tense beside her.

“Well go on then,” prompts McGonagall. “Unless you want to waste more of Professor Slughorn's time.

Slowly, Mary rises to her feet as if she's been sentenced for the executioner's block. She grabs her bag.

“Professor, maybe I ought to go with her—”

“Why on earth would you need to do that, Miss Evans?”

Mary follows Mulciber out of the room, not looking back at any of her friends.

Out in the courtyard, Mary's gaze lingers on the fountain where she gave her impassioned speech— Mulciber follows where she's looking, smiles inscrutably.

“Come on then,” he says.

She follows him, and they walk in silence. He holds the door open for her.

They continue, still not speaking a word to each other. They do seem to be heading to the dungeons, and as they cross a bridge that spans two towers Mary is just starting to think that maybe he really is just fetching her for Slughorn when suddenly, Mulciber stops. Mary nearly crashes into him.

“Oi, watch it!”

He leers at her, eyes glittering. “Yes, that's you, isn't it MacDonald, so vulgar and common and rude. And yet... there's something there, isn't there?”

She glares at him.

“No. There's not. Are we going, or what?”

“Mary— can I call you Mary— I wasn't actually sent by Slughorn. I brought you up here because I wanted to talk.”

Mary folds her arms over her chest. Her stomach is twisted up in knots, but she’s trying not to show it. “You wanted to _talk_. Couldn't it just have waited until tonight's detention?”

“I wanted to talk privately. See, despite your low birth I have a modicum of respect for you, so I'm going to give you some friendly advice— and I give it as an equal.”

She scoffs. “As an equal? Oh, that's a laugh. You, Mulciber, are far, _far_ below me.”

She kicks at the edge of an embrasure, and a small spray of little rocks cascade over and plunge down to the depths below.

“Tell yourself that if you want. Blood doesn't lie. But I didn't bring you here to argue. I only wanted to tell you— if you continue on this brazen path, things will go very badly for you, very badly for you indeed.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is what I said it is,” he says with a shrug. “A friendly warning. You're on a perilous precipice, Mary, and you want to be careful you don't fall off it entirely.”

“Toss off,” she spits.

His eyes grow dark, and without warning he grabs her, holds her over the edge of the parapet. She struggles to loosen his grip or reach her wand, but he’s too strong, she’s helpless—

He hisses in her ear. “Consider yourself warned. There may come a day when you'll wish you'd've listened to me.”

He lets her go and she stumbles away from him and the edge. She looks at him in mixed horror and anger.

“Is it you that's been following me?”

He only smiles in response, and bows exaggeratedly before turning on his heel and departing.

* * *

Remus is walking alone along the fourth floor corridor, clutching the strap of his bag like a drowning man. His friends have disappeared off to the library again, saying they’d meet him at  lunch. He knows they’re off researching Animagus stuff— the fire in James’ eyes after transfiguration told him as much.

He’s just turning the corner when Severus Snape steps out of a doorway and blocks his path.

Instinctively, Remus backs up. He looks around— the corridor is deserted. “Oh. What do you want?”

“I want to know what you and your friends've been up to.”

 “ _Up to_? What are you talking about? We're not up to anything!”

He tries to go around him, but Severus fills the doorway. He points his wand threateningly at Remus, jabbing it after every word to accentuate his meaning.

“ _Don't. Lie. To. Me_.”

“I'm not lying to you,” says Remus, as politely as he can given that it’s _Snape_. “Now will you get out of my way, please.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You and your friends think you're so bloody tough, but mark my words, I'm going to take you down. I'm going to find out Potter's big secret—"

Remus goggles at him. “You're mental. I don't know what your problem is, but James hasn't got a big secret. You're wasting your time.”

“Oh yeah? Then why are you lot always sneaking around, and why is he checking out books on becoming an Animagus at the library?

Remus stiffens— _how does he know_? He tries to cover it, but it’s too late. Snape has seen, and he seizes upon the weakness.

“That's right, bet you didn't know I knew about that. What's he hiding?”

“He's not hiding anything, he's just interested in doing it after OWLs, his best subject's transfiguration...”

“Yes, Potter's so great and talented, blah blah blah.” Snarls Snape with venom. “I've heard it all before. I don't believe a word of it.”

Remus draws himself up bravely. “Believe what you like. I reckon you're just a little too obsessed with what James is doing, and honestly, it's sort of pathetic.”

The word elicits a strong reaction from Severus— he's suddenly furious, towering over Remus threateningly.

“Don't _call_ me that.”

Remus, though intimidated, stands his ground. “Why not? It's what you are. A pathetic, Dark-Arts-obsessed—"

He doesn't have time to finish; Severus slashes his wand viciously down, causing Remus to be blown backwards in a violent gust of wind. He skids across the floor and crashes into a suit of armor, wand clattering away.

Remus pushes the armor off him and tries to get up, but Severus has him magically pinned down. All he can do is look up in fear as Severus looms above him, wand pointed at his chest.

“Do you want to see some Dark Arts, Lupin? I'll show you Dark Arts.”

He raises his wand.

“ _Sectum_ —"

He doesn’t have time to finish.

“Confundo!” Shouts a voice, and a wave of smoke engulfs Snape. He totters back, wand hand falling limply to his side. His face is blank, disoriented, as if he has no idea where he is or what he's doing.

Peter hurries to Remus's side, pushing Snape out of the way.

“Remus! Are you alright?”

He helps Remus to his feet and dusts him off.

“Yeah... just about. Thanks for stepping in.”

Peter eyes Snape, who is frowning at them in bewilderment.

“I’d just come to fetch you when I saw him approaching,” he says, waving the map. “Rotten bastard.”

“Yeah... what should we do?” Asks Remus worriedly. “We can't just leave him wandering around, surely? He'll hurt himself like this.”

“Sorry, are you talking about me?” Snape says, in the most pleasant voice they’ve ever heard from him.

“No,” replies Peter curtly, turning back to Remus. “Why not? Who cares if he hurts himself?”

Remus frowns. “I don't know, just seems wrong is all.”

He approaches Severus and holds him gently by the shoulders. “Snape? Severus?”

Severus points at himself.

“Yes, you. How about sitting down right here and not moving for a few hours, until this spell wears off? How does that sound?”

Snape nods, a dreamy look in his eye. “Brilliant... that sounds...”

He does as Remus asks, sliding down against the wall and sitting there, staring blankly ahead.

Satisfied, Remus and Peter start down the hallway together.

“Do you reckon he was telling the truth, about using the Dark Arts on you and all?”

Remus shudders. “I don't know. I hope not, but Snape's always been fascinated with the Dark Arts, hasn't he? Stands to reason he'd use them too, doesn't it.”

“James and Sirius'll go mental when they find out.”

“No!” Says Remus loudly, startling a few portraits out of their midday snooze. “Sorry! I mean, no— we don't need to tell them about this. They'll just go after Snape again and then Snape'll come after us and things will get out of control. Best to just forget about it, alright?”

Peter pats his shoulder. “Well, alright. If that's what you want.”

Remus nods. “Yeah, it is.”

* * *

They find James and Sirius at the Gryffindor table, piling ham sandwiches and chips onto their plates.

“Good time at the library?” Asks Remus as they sit down.

“We came here a bit earlier than planned, ‘cause Sirius was too hungry to read.” James says, trying and failing to look annoyed.

“Hey, I have needs.” Sirius says through a mouthful of chips.

James waits a moment, then takes out Sirius's present from his pocket and places it on the table.

Sirius doesn't even notice it, so James slides it forward into his elbow.

He stops and looks at it, swallows.

“Oh. Should I open it now?”

“Yeah, go on.”

They all wait with anticipation as Sirius turns the parcel over in his hands. James looks brimful of confidence that this will be the best gift Sirius has ever received.

Sirius opens it, letting the wrapping paper fall to the ground thoughtlessly.

It appears to be a picture frame. From the back, Remus can’t see what it is.

“Well?” Prompts James.

“It's a...” Sirius turns his head sideways. “I don't really understand it, to be honest.”

He sets the frame down on the table, and Remus and Peter lean over for a look. Inside is a small clipping from a muggle magazine or catalogue, glossy and slightly wrinkled, depicting a fearsome motorbike.

“You remember last summer when we went to Spain with my family and you said you really liked those things the Muggles were riding around on? Well they're called motorbikes. Sort of like a car but with two wheels.”

“Yeah, I know what a motorbike is. I have loads of pictures like this in my room.”

James rolls his eyes. “The picture isn't the present, you daft bastard, its the real thing, isn't it! The motorbike! It's at my parents right now but you can come get it over the holidays. They pitched in, so you'd better write and thank them. Though it was my idea, obviously.”

“Wow, Sirius!” Squeals Peter.

Sirius is awestruck. “I don't know what to say... this is— this—"

He's suddenly too overcome with emotion to speak, gripping the picture frame so tightly it looks like it might snap.

“You could say thank you, for starters.”

They laugh.

“Thank you. Really. I mean it.”

“Yeah, you're welcome.”

James throws an arm around Sirius's shoulders and squeezes them tightly.

Suddenly, Severus Snape sits casually down next to him. Sirius half leaps out of his seat, wand already out— but Avery appears, grabbing Snape by the arm and pulling him away. Snape allows himself to be led, looking for all the world like a little lost lamb.

“For fuck's sake, Snape, what are you doing?” They hear Avery snap at him.

James and Sirius stare after them as they move away, and Peter and Remus exchange a glance.

“What was all that about?” Says James.

“He—"

Remus interrupts Peter quickly. “Don't know.”

They look at each other, and James and Sirius frown at them.

“It’s Snape, isn’t it?” Remus amends. “He’s always doing odd things.”

“Remus is right,” says Sirius with a shrug. “Who are we to try to understand the myriad workings of Snivellus's extremely complex mind.”

“Right,” agrees James. “Oh! Speaking of myriad workings, look at this.”

He sets a little tin of mints on the table.

“Mints?” Asks Peter.

“Bit less tasty. Mandrake leaves.”

He opens it up, displaying three dried Mandrake leaves.

Sirius peers at them in disgust. “Oh, bollocks, do we have to start that whole thing again? The taste didn't leave my mouth for weeks.

“Afraid so. The final transformation requires you to hold it in your mouth for a whole month. You remember the sticking charm, right Peter? Just stick it to the roof of your mouth and try not to lick it.”

“Yeah, I remember."

“And the incantation?”

“I've still got it written down somewhere.”

“In any case we ought to do it together every night,” says James. “ _Before_ Cresswell comes in so he doesn't think we're nutters like last time.”

They laugh, remembering it. Remus, however, does not laugh. He is very determinedly looking down at his lunch.

James sees. “I think I know where we went wrong last time, with the algorithm. I’ve had a breakthrough, seems like paying attention in class is worthwhile sometimes.”

“Right.” Remus chews his lip.

“What's wrong, Remus?” Asks Peter.

“Nothing's wrong. It's just... I don't know. What if it goes wrong again? What if it goes worse this time?”

James smiles at him. “Don't worry, Remus. Nothing's going to go wrong. Wait and see, full moon after next is going to be the best you've ever had.”

“I doubt there's much competition,” Sirius points out.

They laugh, and even Remus joins in this time.

“You'll see,” says James, confidently.

* * *

A line of students- Mulciber, Rosier, Avery, Snape, Dirk, James, Sirius, and Mary are standing against the wall of the trophy room.

Argus Filch, the grizzled old custodian, is pacing in front of them with barely contained glee. Mrs. Norris purrs from within his arms.

“Got something special for you miscreants tonight. Yes, tonight you'll have the pleasure of polishing the trophy room.”

No reaction.

Filch grins wickedly. “By hand.”

They all groan. Filch cackles, tosses a cloth sack at their feet.

“And we'll know if you use magic. Polish and dust from top to bottom. If I see a speck or a spot left when I come ‘round to inspect, you'll wish you'd never been born. You never know, Dumbledore might let me have the old thumbscrews out...”

Grinning maniacally, he retreats out of the door— the last they see of him is Mrs. Norris's lamplike eyes glowing through the darkness.

The students are left alone, with all the different seething tensions that rest between them bubbling close to the surface.

They grab rags from the sack without talking to each other and start to work, by this time used to having detention together and preferring to ignore one another.

Mary reaches for a rag— Mulciber reaches for the same one, and their hands meet. She stiffens, and he smiles up at her but says nothing.

“He keeps looking over at us,” hisses James, nodding towards Severus across the room.

“First lunch and now this. What is his problem?” Says Sirius in a low voice as he shines an ancient trophy.

“He's completely obsessed with the idea that we're up to something and that he's going to find out what it is. You should have heard him going on this morning.”

Sirius frowns“We are up to something, though, aren't we? You don't think he's close to figuring anything out? About Remus?”

“What? No. Snape is all talk. He's got no proof of anything other than he hates us and has never heard of shampoo.”

Sirius laughs loudly.

At the sound of his laughter, Severus looks over, scowling.

“You think it was them who confunded you?” Says Avery, following his gaze.

“I know it was. I was with their friend Remus Lupin just before it happened, so it has to be. Look at them, they know it and they're laughing.”

Mulciber leans over with interest. “You were confunded?”

Avery snorts. “Yeah, he's been running bloody rings around me all day. Made a right fool of himself at lunch.”

Rosier finds the idea amusing and laughs. Severus gives him a dirty look.

“You'd've seen it yourself if you'd been there,” says Avery pointedly. “Where were you anyway, we haven't seen you all day. I asked the other sixth years and they said neither of you have been in classes…”

“We were doing this and that,” replies Mulciber, vaguely.

He looks over at Mary MacDonald, who looks away and returns to polishing.

“Look at those mudbloods,” Rosier says. “They have no idea what's coming, do they?”

“No. And neither have I, or any of us apart from you two.” Snaps Avery. “You're always going on about this great bloody thing that's going to happen— but when do Snape and I get to be part of it? We fought, didn't we?”

Mulciber regards him, seeing the sense in his question. “You're right, Preston. I'm sorry we can't say much yet. Soon enough it'll be you two in our shoes, but until then the matter is somewhat... delicate. But maybe—"

He looks at Rosier, who shrugs.

“Yes, maybe it's time Evan and I gave you some lessons. Strictly extracurricular, mind, they won't teach you this stuff in any of your classes.”

“So obviously, don't go around using it where everyone can see you. Not unless you really need to.” Rosier says.

Mulciber nods mysteriously.

“Yeah, alright. When do we start?” Avery asks.

“We'll start tomorrow morning if you like. You might have to miss your first class.

Avery looks at Severus. “What do you say, Snape, isn't this what you've wanted?”

“Yeah, it is.” Sev replies quietly.

“He's still a little confunded, poor chap.” Snickers Avery.

Mulciber looks at him, sympathetic. “Well don't worry, Severus. After we're done nobody will be able to make a fool of you again. Nobody will be able to touch you.”

This resonates with Severus. He looks up at Potter and Black. Potter sticks two fingers up at him.

“Yeah, I do need help with one of my new spells actually...” Severus says pensively.

Mary is polishing a trophy with too much focus, as if it's the only thing that exists in the world.

“Mary? You alright?” Says Cresswell.

She shakes out of it. “Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Thanks.”

“Alright, well you've been polishing that same one for ten minutes now. I think it's time to move on, don't you.”

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

She puts it back and grabs another one from the case. Her gaze flicks over inadvertently to the Slytherins— only for a second, but it's enough.

Mulciber drops his rag and stalks over to them.

“MacDonald!”

She freezes, staring up at him. The others pause in their cleaning to watch, tensely.

“What?” She tries for aggressive, but it falls short.

“I have a question for you,” Mulciber says.

“Oh yeah? And what's that?”

“Will you come to Hogsmeade with me?”

There's a moment of shocked silence, then he starts laughing at her. All the Slytherins join in, even Snape.

Mary tries hard not to react, goes back to her polishing.

“I've got a question for you too, Mulciber.” Sirius says loudly across the room.

“You have, have you, Black?

“Now why would a pretty, _sane_ girl like Mary ever dream of going to Hogsmeade with a misshapen gorilla like you?”

Mulciber’s eyes narrow. “Careful, Black.”

“Maybe Snivellus ought to try his luck too,” James says, and Severus twitches. “He has rather a thing for girls that are far above his level, doesn't he?”

Sev grits his teeth, saying nothing.

“Severus is a wizard of magical parentage,” says Mulciber. “That puts any mudbloods, yes, even the famous Miss Evans, below his level. And mine.”

James tosses his rag down angrily, starting forward. “You're revolting. Say that word one more time—"

Mary interrupts him. “Just leave it, Potter. It'll only make it worse, and I don't fancy spending even more time locked up in detention with them, do you?”

“No,” supplies Cresswell helpfully.

James glares at Mulciber, then at Snape. “No. But this isn't over.”

“You're right. It's far from over.” Mulciber says, but he returns to his friends without another word.

“Don't pay him any mind, Mary. You're worth ten of him, any day.” Says Cresswell.

She smiles at him. “Thanks, Dirk. You're always so kind to me.”

“Yeah, well, I—"

Whatever he's going to say, he thinks better of it.

“Look, if that ape, or any of them, is giving you any trouble- you tell someone. Me, Potter and Black, a teacher, I don't care. Someone. You don't have to deal with this on your own.”

“I— thanks. I think I'm alright though, that was the first I'd heard from any of them since the protest.” Mary says. She doesn’t want to worry Cresswell, or any of the others by telling them about Mulciber’s threat.

Cresswell nods.

“Alright. Well we're all behind you, Mary, all of us.”

Mary takes this gratefully, trying to put Mulciber out of her mind.

* * *

Gerhard Richter, their burly German Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, paces back and forth before the fifth-years with his hands clasped behind his back.

“And what are the three unforgivable curses?

“The Killing curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Imperius curse.” Says Wilkes at once.

Richter comes to stand by his desk. “Yes, yes, indeed, and which of these curses is the worst? The most evil?”

“Cruciatus, sir.” Offers Severus.

Richer shoots him an irritated look, moustache bristling. “I'm asking this boy with the funny eyebrows,”

Wilkes looks offended for a second, but recovers quickly. “The killing curse, sir. You can't come back from that.”

“That's true, Eyebrow Boy, but can you come back from the trauma of the Cruciatus curse? Some people never do.”

Severus looks at him smugly, until:

“However, neither of those was the answer I wanted. The Imperius Curse.”

Richter scrawls this on the board, underlining it twice.

“Nothing is as destructive or as dangerous as having total and complete control of another wizard or witch's mind. The scope of it can be unimaginable.”

The students ponder this in silence.

“That's why it's paramount for a wizard or witch who wishes to defend themselves to learn how to retain control of their mind when such a curse is cast. This is a feat which requires incredible mental fortitude, and most are not capable of resisting. With some effort, of course, the mind can be trained.”

He sets a cauldron full of a light blue potion on the table in front of him, and a crate filled with lots of little clear shot glasses.

“Since it would be deeply imprudent,” Richter says, surveying them critically. “Not to mention illegal, to actually cast the curse on students, we will approximate the effects. Professor Slughorn has kindly agreed to brew for us a batch of Compulsion Concoction- as the German resistance, the Widerstand, used when training to fight Grindelwald himself. Unlike the Imperius Curse, the Concoction only causes any suggestions made to the drinker to seem like really good ideas that must be followed through. It is much less potent, yet still highly restricted. For good reason. Now please choose a partner. Someone you know and trust.”

There's a scramble as students reorganise into pairs. Richter ladles out potion into the shot glasses and arranging them on the table.

Lily looks over at Sev eagerly, but he shakes his head and indicates that he's with Avery. She frowns, disappointed, and turns back to her friends, but they've paired up already.

Cresswell approaches their table.

“Fancy pairing up, Mary?”

“Oh, sorry Dirk. I'm already with Marlene.” She says apologetically.

He takes this well, nodding.

“Why don't you and Lily pair up?” Suggests Marlene.

Cresswell and Lily look at each other and smile a little awkwardly.

“Alright, why not?” Says Lily.

He sits down next to her.

“Are you all paired up?” Says Richter. “Alright then, now I want one from each group to come up here- in _orderly_ fashion- and take two glasses back to your table. Don't do anything with them until I say.”

Marlene and Lily go up to form part of the queue.

“Poor Cresswell,” sighs Marlene. “He fancies Mary something awful.”

“Does he?” Lily says with a frown.

She takes a look back at the table, where Cresswell has managed to get a smile out of Mary and is looking pleased with himself.

“I had no idea.”

Marlene rolls her eyes. “That's because you're not very perceptive, Lily.”

She takes her shot glasses and goes back to the table, and Severus comes up behind Lily in the queue.

“Hi,” he says.

“Oh, hi.” Her response is a little colder than usual.

He looks contrite. “Sorry, it's just- Avery really wanted to be partners.”

“Oh, that's alright. I wasn't bothered by it, honest.” She says with a smile.

She's clearly lying, but Severus nods. They both take their shot glasses and look at each other.

“I'll see you later, yeah?” He says hopefully.

“'Course.”

As they walk back James passes and purposely knocks into Severus, who spills the content of his glasses onto himself.

“Ooops,” drawls Potter. “Ever so sorry.”

Severus goggles at his robes, which are stained light blue. “You did that on purpose!”

“No, I really _am_ this clumsy.”

Lily glares at him. “Shove off, Potter. Here Sev, take mine. I'll go and get more.”

She goes and leaves a steaming Severus and an amused James to regard each other.

“Anyone ever told you you ought to relax?” Says James, and he goes back to his table without another word.

Richter claps his hands to draw their attention. “Once you're ready, take the potion. It's a small dosage so it should only last half an hour or so, during which you should take turns instructing one another to do things, and trying your best to resist these commands. Please, for the love of _Lutzelfrau_ , be responsible. Your partner is entrusting you with their well-being.”

Lily sets her glasses down and takes her seat again.

“Alright, here we are,” she says. “Sorry it took so long.”

“No trouble.

Lily sighs, looking over at the Marauders' table. “Potter is so nasty to poor Sev, sometimes I—”

“Deserves it if you ask me.”

There's no lightheartedness in Mary’s voice, just a hard, matter-of-fact statement.

Lily stares at her. “Excuse me?

“You heard me,” says Mary icily. “Your _poor Sev_ deserves all he gets from Potter and worse."

“Mary, come on...” Marlene says.

“Got to admit, I've never really understood why you and him are mates.” Says Cresswell.

Lily looks at him, distressed. “He's a good person, he just—”

Mary laughs humourlessly. “Good person my arse. Lily, he's a fucking horrible person and it's time you woke up and realised it like the rest of us have. I'm tired of tiptoeing around it.”

Lily is taken aback, hurt by the harshness of her words. “I hardly think that's fair. You don't know him as well as I do.”

“And thank Christ for that,” Mary says.

Marlene tries to intercede. “Oh, leave it out, Mary, can’t you—”

“No, I bloody well won't— you know what, why don't you and Lily pair up since you're both so in love with precious _Snivellus_ , and me and Dirk will go somewhere else. Come on Dirk, let's go.”

She stands up and stalks to a different table. Cresswell shrugs apologetically, takes two of the shot glasses, and follows her. Marlene and Lily are left, shellshocked.

“Is she alright? Does she seem alright to you?” Lily says, wide-eyed.

“No... she hasn't for a while, has she?” Says Marlene worriedly. “Ever since the protest... oh Lily, what if something's really wrong, and we've had no idea?”

“We'll talk to her later, as soon as she's calmed down.”

Marlene nods, looking worried.

At the Marauders' table, Peter is holding up his shot glass, eyeing it warily.

“I don't know about this,” he says.

“Come on, I won't make you do anything too embarrassing.” Says Sirius with a wicked glimmer in his eye that says the exact opposite.

“Well that's reassuring. What does it feel like, I wonder?”

“I think it's sort of like being confunded,” James says thoughtfully. “Remus, you ready?

Remus nods, and takes the shot.

“Well?” Prompts Peter.

Remus shakes his head. “I don't know. I don't feel anything. I'm not sure it worked.”

“Stand up,” says James.

Remus stands up immediately.

Remus looks down at himself, bewildered. “I... uh...”

Sirius looks at him too, gleeful. “This is wicked. Peter, hurry up and drink already.”

“Alright, here goes.”

He closes his eyes and downs the shot.

“Peter, say ‘I'm a stupid ugly wanker and I'm lucky to have such a cool and handsome friend like Sirius.’”

“I'm a stupid ugly wanker and I'm lucky to have such a cool and handsome friend like Sirius.” Repeats Peter obediently.

James and Sirius laugh.

At the Slytherin table, Avery and Severus have paired up.

“There's no way I'm doing this,” Nicola says. She’s working with Shea, as usual.

“Come on Selwyn,” says Avery. “What’ll happen if someone tries to Imperiuse you? You'll be helpless.”

“I don't care. I don't have to do it if I don't want to.”

Shea shrugs, and ducks down under the table to spill their two shots onto the classroom floor.

Avery rolls his eyes. “Ah, you're no fun, the pair of you. Come on then, Snape. Drink up.”

Severus eyes the shot with trepidation, then drinks it.

“Is it working?”

“I... I don't know.”

“Stick your tongue out,” Avery commands.

Severus sticks his tongue out.

 “Brilliant. Now stand up.”

Severus stands up.

“Alright. Now go over to Evans's table and tell her that she's a dirty little mudblood whore and how much you want to fuck her.”

He grins widely.

“Fucking hell, Avery.” Says Shea.

Severus, blankly, walks towards Lily's table as Avery laughs behind him. When he reaches her he stops, and Lily looks up at him. Marlene is singing the Hogwarts school song in a funny accent.

“Marlene, stop singing.” Says Lily.

She stops, and they both wait for him to speak.

He looks like he's going to say something, but then closes his mouth, face contorting wildly as he concentrates with everything he's got on fighting off the effects of the potion.

“No... I... don't.... want to do that. No. No, no, I don't WANT TO!”

The last words are shouted, and everyone who's still in their right mind looks over in shock.

Richter hurries over.

“Yes, yes! This is what I mean! Here, this young man has demonstrated perfectly that he has sufficient willpower to resist the Concoction! Of course, the Imperius curse is much stronger, but it's a start, boy, a good start. Tell me, have you ever heard of Occlumency—”

Severus, still bewitched, tells him: “I've heard of it.”

“.....Right, yes, well I think you may be a very good candidate for the subject after you pass your OWLs! Very good indeed! Five points to Slytherin. Return to your seat, please.”

Severus does this obediently.

James looks over sourly. “Pompous wanker. I bet I can do it too.”

“I wonder what Avery told him to say to Lily,” muses Remus.

“Whatever it was, he really, really didn't want to say it.” Says Sirius.

Peter is looking at Snape, lost in thought.

“Do tell us what you're thinking, Pete.” Says James.

He's a little distracted as Dorcas skips by, and they exchange smiles.

“I was just thinking about yesterday when Snape attacked Remus in the halls,” blurts out Peter. Immediately, he realises what he's inadvertently said thanks to the spell, and he claps his hand to his mouth. Sirius and James stare at him and Remus's head falls into his hands.

“What? What are you talking about? Remus, what's he talking about? Tell us!”

Remus sighs, resigned to obeying. “He's talking about when Snape attacked me yesterday in the halls and was going to curse me, but Peter came and confunded him. That's why Snape was in such a state yesterday.”

James and Sirius process this, gaping.

“That little slimeball is dead,” hisses Sirius, slamming his fist on the table. “He's dead. I'll kill him myself.”

“You'll have to kill his dead body after I'm through with him,” says James grimly.

“This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you, because I knew you'd overreact.” Remus says.

“We're hardly overreacting,” snaps Sirius.

James nods. “He needs to understand that messing with one of us means messing with all of us. He—”

He’s interrupted by Richter’s shout: “You there, on the table, STOP!

They look over— Avery is standing on the table and has frozen in the middle of a striptease. There's raucous laughter from around the classroom. Snape is looking at him with a vengeful satisfaction, arms folded over his chest.

Richter looms over them, moustache bristling with anger. “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid when I told you to be responsible. I don't know which one of you told him to do this, but Slytherin has just lost itself the five points it won just a minute ago. Get down from there, boy, and put your shirt back on.”

Avery obeys.

“I just don't want this to get out of hand,” says Remus worriedly.

“It's already out of hand, Remus.” James says. “One way or another, Snape will pay.”

He downs his shot dramatically for emphasis.

An hour later, the bell rings and the fifth years come streaming out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, all excitedly discussing the class.

Severus avoids Lily’s eyes as he exits the classroom with his friends, too embarrassed by the thought of what he almost said to her. Avery, he thinks, went too far. Even as he's just entertaining thoughts of revenge, he spots Potter and Black with their heads together, whispering urgently just outside the classroom. Severus sidles closer to listen in.

“Sirius, we need to get up to that unused classroom on the fourth floor.” Potter is saying. “It’s urgent, it’s about you-know-what.”

“Right,” says Black, looking around warily. “Our… secret project. Let's go then.”

They hurry away, and Severus starts after them, but Avery grabs his arm.

“No hard feelings, eh, Snape? We both had a laugh, didn't we?”

Severus cranes his neck so as to not lose sight of Potter and Black. “No, no hard feelings.” He says impatiently, shaking him off. “Listen, I'll meet you in the Great Hall later, I've got something I have to do.

Avery frowns as Severus takes off, following Potter and Black at a safe distance, fighting through the crowd of students. Someone treads on his toe— he looks around, distracted— and when he turns back, they've vanished.

“Fuck!” Severus swears loudly, startling a few first years. They scurry away from him, terrified.

Severus heads for the Grand Staircase— he needs to get up to the fourth floor, and he has no time to lose. Potter and Black could be gone by the time he gets there.

He barrels up a flight of stairs, unheeding of the students knocked aside and the cries of “Oi, watch it!” he leaves behind.

As far as he knows, there’s only two unused classrooms on the fourth floor. The first is open, but there’s no sign of Potter or Black. He hurries down a passageway to the second, which is locked— he whips out his wand—

“Alohomora!”

The lock clicks and he slams the door open with all his might—

“Incredible. You actually _are_ as thick as you look.” Potter leaps off a desk in the corner of the classroom.

Black is standing by the door, and he flicks a cigarette onto the ground in front of Severus.

“What— I dont—"

He scans the room, looking for whatever it was that Potter and Black were doing— and then, it dawns on him. He's been led into a trap. He tries to back away, but Black grabs him by the front of his blue-stained school robes and hurls him into the classroom.

“Oh no you don't.” He says.

“Expelliarmus!” Cries Potter.

Snape's wand flies out of his hand, and Potter catches it, twirling it between his fingers.

“Really brave of you, disarming me like that. Can't face me, even if it's two against one?” Spits Severus.

Potter shrugs. “Snivellus, we've got no interest in facing you. We just want to you to get it through your ugly head what'll happen if you ever mess with one of ours. That is, total humiliation.”

“You really thought we were going to let you get away with what you did to Remus? Just like that?”

Severus says nothing, stares hatefully at them. He knows he's in for a world of pain.

James moves forward, wand pointed at him. “Listen closely, you repulsive, interfering, evil little slimeball. There is no plan. We're not up to anything. There's nothing for you to figure out, except that I'm ten times the man you are, ten times the wizard. And Evans is going to see that, just like everyone else already does.”

Sirius casts him a confused look at the mention of Lily.

“She can't even stand the sight of you!”

James grows stormy, and flicks his wand mercilessly downwards.

Sev's head is pulled down to the ground as his legs are pulled upwards into the air, and he starts to spin in place in furious circles like a top.

Potter walks casually past him to shut the door, then releases the spell.

Severus flops over, pushes himself up onto his hands and knees.

“Time for a shower, Snivellus. Diluvia.”

A dark grey little stormcloud coalesces in the air above Sev, and then dumps out a torrent of water onto his head. He splutters, completely drenched, and pushes sodden strands of hair out of his face

“Look at me. _Look at me_.”

Severus does, defiantly.

Black looks down at him. “You never lay a wand on any of our friends again, you hear me? Or it'll be much worse than this. Much worse than you can imagine.”

“It'll be worse for you,” spits Severus. Every curse he knows is running through his head, but without his wand they’re useless.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Black gives Severus a vicious kick in the face— he goes sprawling, blood gushing from his nose.

Potter steps over Severus as he crosses to the window and opens it, and throws Sev's wand out.

“Hmm... looks like it landed in some thorn bushes down there.” He says. “Shouldn't be too tricky to dig it out though. Bit painful, maybe.”

He and Black laugh at their own brilliance, heading to the door. Severus starts to struggle upright again and Potter shoves him down one last time for good measure.

* * *

Lily and Marlene are walking along the castle wall back from the greenhouses, talking.

“I'm starting to get really worried about Mary.” Marlene is saying. “It's not like her to miss herbology, she likes that class.”

Lily frets. “Dirk said she just ran off without saying where she was going. Maybe she went to the common room...”

She stops as they see Nicola Selwyn sitting on a broken stone pillar nearby, smoking a cigarette. She eyes Marlene coolly as they pass.

Marlene stops suddenly. “Why don't you go ahead and look for her? I… have to go to the owlery. Send a letter to my mum."

Lily nods. “Alright. See you later then.”

Marlene hurries back the way they came, and Lily continues, looking down at the dusty path—

There's a trail of dark spots leading across it, clearly red against the light chalky stone. It looks suspiciously like blood, thinks Lily with an unpleasant lurch in her stomach.

Lily hesitates, then follows the trail around a bend in the castle wall, coming across a ditch filled with thorny bushes...

And she sees Sev is gingerly poking through them, as though looking for something.

“Sev, is that you? What are you doing?”

Severus turns, and Lily sees with a jolt of horrified shock that his face is an absolute mess. His nose seems to be broken, and dried blood is caked all down his mouth, chin, and neck.

“Holy Christ,” She hurries forward to him. “What happened? Sev, what's happened?”

He looks impossibly miserable. “Oh. Lily. Just go away, will you?”

“Not until you tell me what's happened,” she says, inspecting his nose.

“What do you _think_?” He says, venomously.

She bites her lip. “It wasn't Potter, was it?

“Would that be so surprising?”

“No, it's just—"

He interrupts her bitterly. “My face was Black's handiwork, actually. _Potter_ chucked my wand in here somewhere, so I've been looking for it.”

Lily closes her eyes. “I'm so sorry, Sev. Here, I'll help you look.”

She climbs down into the ditch and starts peering into the thicket.

“Blimey, can't see anything in this lot.”

“Well you've still got a wand, haven't you?” He says, pointedly.

“Oh, right. Silly me. Accio Sev's wand!”

It flies from the depths of the bushes into her hand, and she gives it to him. He turns it over in his hand, thinking.

“Want me to walk you to the hospital wing?” She says sympathetically.

He stares at the ground. “No... no thanks, Lily. I'd just like to be alone now, if you don't mind. I've got detention in a minute, anyway.”

“Well, if you're sure you'll be alr— oops.”

She stumbles a little, and a small and ridiculously adorable albino is startled from the bushes and out onto the lawn where it sits, nose twitching.

“Oh, look!” Lily coos. “The poor dear must've escaped from the transfiguration classroom, mustn't it. How precious.”

Severus doesn’t seem too impressed. “S'pose so.”

Lily sighs. “Well, I'll see you later, Sev. Take care, alright? And don't let James Potter get to you.”

“I will. I mean, I won't.”

She climbs back up the embankment and leaves, with one sorrowful look back. He stays there, turning things over in his mind, then climbs after her and points his wand at the rabbit.

“Sectumsempra.”

A dozen crimson gashes raze the rabbit's body, oozing bright red blood onto its white fur. It squeaks pitifully and dies, almost instantly.

Severus stares down at it for a moment, then heads for the castle.


	4. Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gryffindors face problems during the first Quidditch match of the season. Mulciber's torment of Mary reaches a new extreme, and Lily worries about her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just as a warning, in this chapter there's an implied rape attempt. It's not graphic and is stopped before anything actually happens but it's there, so be warned. Thank you for reading!

Marlene closes her eyes, letting it wash over her. She feels utterly relaxed, like her body weighs nothing, like she’s drifting on a cloud.

“This is amazing... I'd no idea there were charms like this.”

She opens her eyes. She’s floating next to Nicola Selwyn, somewhere near the ceiling of an unused classroom.

Nicola smiles at her. Marlene thinks she’s a lot prettier when she actually smiles. “And I'd no idea you were so good at casting them,” says Nicola dreamily. “You just keep getting better and better... oops—"

She tilts a little and grabs Marlene's forearm for support. They giggle as if this is outrageously funny.

“What time is it?” Says Marlene suddenly. “Feels like we've been here forever...”

“Feels nice though...”

“Yeah...” Marlene says, but something is nagging at her, she can’t quite place it… “Maybe we ought to come down. My friends will wonder where I've gone.”

Nicola closes her eyes and nods in agreement. They grasp hands. Slowly, they both sink back to earth, landing with a soft thump.

“Check if anyone's outside,” says Nicola.

Marlene opens the classroom door and peers around.

“Don't think so.”

Nicola nods, adjusts her skirt and hair a little, and then walks out.

“See you around,” she says.

Marlene stares after. “Yeah...”

* * *

Lily is lying awake, staring at the canopy of her bed.

The door opens and she hears it, sitting up so she can see who's come in. It has the vague shape and size of Marlene. tripping over the chair next to the door and making an awful racket as she tries to detangle herself.

“Marlene? Is that you?” Lily calls into the darkness.

Marlene looks up. “Lily... Yeah... everything's great, Lily, everything's really great. Night, Lily.”

Without another word she clambers into her bed and passes out.

Lily looks confused, but finally lies back down and rolls over.

She wakes to a bright triangle of sun cutting across her duvet.

After a moment, she wakens fully and sits up, blinking sleep away. She glances over at the clock on her bedside table.

She gets up, then looks over at Marlene's bed. Marlene is sound asleep.

“Marlene. Marlene?”

Marlene rustles. “Hmm.. whazzat?”

“Marlene, wake up, don't you know what today is?”

Marlene frowns, not even opening her eyes. “Hmm? Thursday?”

“It's Saturday,” says Lily anxiously. “The Quidditch match is today, Marlene, shouldn't you be up?”

Marlene comes fully awake and sits up, looking deeply bewildered.

“Oh... fuck. I feel... awful.” She says.

“Are you sick?” Lily asks in concern. “I heard you come in last night… were you drinking?”

“No, I was...” She shakes her head, slides out of bed and heads to her mirror to squint at her reflection. Her hair, squashed from sleep, is all to one side.

Lily follows her. “You've been getting back really late a lot recently, Marlene. Is anything the matter?”

Marlene turns, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “I'm _fine_ , Lily. Stop _worrying_ , for fuck's sake. You're always worrying about everything, it drives me mad, honestly. I can't stand it at all.”

She rummages under her bed, pulls out her Quidditch bag. Lily watches her with some alarm. Marlene doesn’t sound like herself at all.

“Alright... see you later then. Potter wants team breakfast. Stupid, isn't it?”

Shaking her head in amusement, Marlene shuffles out of the dormitory.

“What's with her?”

Dorcas is standing by her bed, dressed in Gryffindor regalia for the match.

“I've no idea,” says Lily.

Dorcas shrugs, inspects herself critically in her own mirror. “Well I hope everything's alright. Hm... how do I look, Lily? How's my hair?”

Lily sighs a little and answers truthfully. “Your hair looks great, Dorcas. You look really pretty, like always.”

Dorcas smiles gratefully over at her.

“Oh thanks, that's sweet of you. I just worry, I don't know...”

“Someone you're trying to impress?” Asks Lily curiously. Dorcas is one of the prettiest girls in their year, she’s never known her to be actually _worried_ about that fact.

Dorcas touches up her lipstick, then closes the tube and puts it away.

“Yes, maybe, I—" She glances at Lily and stops. “Oh, look who I'm talking to. You wouldn't understand, would you.”

“You don't know that,” says Lily, a little hurt. “Maybe I _would_ understand. I know we've not been close, but you can still tell me if you like. We're friends, aren't we?”

“Yes of course we are. It's not that, its just— well, it's James. Potter, I mean.”

Lily sours instantly.

“Oh,” she says, unable to muster up anything but distaste.

“See, I knew you'd react like that, that's why I didn't want to tell you.” Says Dorcas.

“I can't see why you like him. He's a horrible bully.” Lily says, crossing her arms.

“He's not as bad as all that, honest.” Says Dorcas mildly.

“Oh yeah? Then why'd he attack my friend Sev yesterday? You should have seen the mess they made of his face, he looked awful. And then they threw his wand in the bushes. Doesn't that strike you as cruel?”

Dorcas flinches a little but recovers, her tone now cool and pointed. “Was that before or after your mate attacked Remus Lupin in the hall?”

Lily is thrown. “What?”

“Yeah, I heard it during Defence.” Says Dorcas hotly. “So looks like your friend isn't as innocent as he seems. Picking on poor Remus like that, just because he's different. Doesn't that strike _you_ as cruel?”

With that, she leaves the room and Lily to absorb this information. Was it true, had Sev really attacked Remus Lupin? She’d always had somewhat of a soft spot for her fellow prefect, at least compared to his friends, and she knew him well enough to know that Remus wouldn’t have deliberately attacked anyone. No, this must be Potter or Black making things up to try and mess with Sev… it was typical, really…

* * *

James Potter, dressed in his Quidditch kit, paces anxiously in front of the doors to the Great Hall.

When he sees Marlene come down the staircase, he hurries to her side.

“There you are,” he says, relieved. “I was starting to think you weren't coming.”

“Oh don't worry so bloody much, Potter. It's not good for you.”

James frowns at her. Something seems off about Marlene, but he isn’t sure what.

“Yeah, well, someone has to. Come on, the others are waiting.”

She follows him and he opens the doors into the Great Hall, where the air is abuzz with news of the Quidditch match. The Slytherin and Gryffindor tables have been turned into solid masses of green and red, respectively.

James leads Marlene to the far end of the Gryffindor table, which has been especially reserved for the Quidditch team, all tucking into their breakfasts with gusto.

“I thought I said not to start,” says James with irritation.

“Sorry, Potter, we got hungry.” Says Cresswell through a mouthful of toast. “What does it matter?”

James sighs. “S'pose it doesn't. Marlene, have a seat. I just want to go over a few things before the match starts.”

She takes a seat and starts taking little sausages from a serving dish nearby, popping them into her mouth directly. The team looks at her as she starts chewing slowly, ecstatically.

“Merlin’s balls, I was starved.” Says Marlene, gulping down pumpkin juice.

“Well, eat quickly— but not too quickly, mind, so you’ve got time to digest properly before the match,” says James worriedly. “Alright, now remember what I was saying about Slytherin's offence? Their chasers might look scary, yeah, but their defence is rubbish. I was watching their practise and their keeper was letting goals in all the time. Not because they were that good, either, but because they've got no idea how to defend their own hoops. All they care about is brute force, and that's going to the advantage we need to win this. We're the better team, easily.”

“You were watching their practise?” Asks Daren Turner. “Didn't they spot you?”

“I was well hidden. Believe me, they've got no finesse at all, no coordination—"

There's a loud clatter as Marlene puts her elbow down on a plate, sending it flying. She laughs madly.

“Oooooops...”

They stare at her.

“You feeling alright, McKinnon?”

“Yeah, I'm fantastic. Fan- tastic.”

Marlene nods vigorously to convince them, but none of them look convinced.

“Marlene, what’s—” Begins James, but he’s interrupted.

“Hey, James!”

He turns to see Dorcas walking past with her friend Blanca, a small Spanish girl. Dorcas holds out her hand, offering him something.

“What's this?” He asks, curiously.

“Take it and see,” she says. Blanca behind her is trying not to giggle. James, for his part, tries not to look at her as he stands up to receive it.

He opens his palm to see two shining gold coins.

“It’s the two galleon I owe you,” says Dorcas with a smile.

James grins too. “Thanks. I was starting to think I'd never see it.”

“Well, I thought you might need some extra luck today. I mean, not that you _need_ any luck, but.. well, you know what I mean.”

“I never turn down extra luck.” As she turns to leave, he calls after her: “Although, hang on—”

She stops, waiting expectantly.

“Don't you owe me something else too?

Dorcas is confused, then realises what he's on about and blushes.

“Oh.”

“A bit more luck couldn't hurt, couldn't it?” He says hopefully. He’s all too conscious of his entire team plus giggly Blanca, watching the exchange.

She laughs, then leans forward and kisses him on the cheek.

“Score some goals for me and we'll see how lucky you are,” she says.

His hand jumps to his hair nervously.

“Yeah— yeah. I'll definitely do that.” He says, mouth rather dry.

She smiles shyly at him and departs, immediately clinging to Blanca to squeal about the occurred with her.

A mixture of pleased and shocked, James sits back down to a chorus of 'oooh's from his team.

“Yeah, yeah, leave it out.”

“Can I give you a kiss for luck too?” Says Fenwick.

“No. Shut up.”

“You can kiss me, Benj.” Cresswell offers.

Fenwick leans over and does so, on the cheek, and then mocks Dorcas in a falsetto. “Score some goals for me, my love.”

Cresswell grins and adopts a gruff, manly voice. “Anything for you, babes.”

The team laughs, except for James, and Marlene— who is dragging a bit of toast covered in egg yolk across her plate with great concentration.

“Merlin's bollocks, enough already.” Says James. “Aisha, you remember what I told you about controlling your dives?”

“I've been working really hard on them,” says the tiny second-year.

“I know. I can tell.”

He gives her a proud look, and she grins back.

James addresses the whole team. “We've all been working really hard, and we were good to begin with. We've got this in the bag.”

Just then, Marlene knocks over her pumpkin juice and watches it spread, spread across the table and drip over the edge onto her lap.

* * *

Mary sits on the armchair near the fire, her legs curled up to her chest. She stares into the flames, lost in thought. She’s the only one in the common room; everyone else has gone to see the match.

The portrait hole opens— Lily enters, spotting Mary and making a beeline for her.

“There you are,” she says. “I couldn't find you at breakfast. I had to eat alone! Marlene was sitting with the team, obviously I couldn't sit with—”

She thinks better of bringing up Severus.

“—anyone else. Even Dorcas is annoyed with me, so I couldn't sit with her and Blanca either.”

“You say it like it's a bad thing,” says Mary.

Lily laughs a little. “Right. So, coming to the match?”

Mary looks away. “Oh, no, I don't think so.”

“What? Why not? Don't you want to see Marlene play? Not to mention Cresswell, you and him have been awfully friendly lately, haven't you? I think it's good, he's very—”

Mary interrupts her stream of chatter. “I don't want to go, Lily. You go and have fun.”

“Come on Mary,” Lily wheedles. “You barely ever leave the common room unless it's for classes, and sometimes not even for that. You need some fresh air.”

“I can stick my head out of a window, can't I?”

Lily looks at her sternly. “Mary.”

“What?”

“It'll do you some good, come on or we'll be late.”

“Oh, stop worrying about me, honestly Lily. You're always worrying about everything.”

Lily frowns, remembering what Marlene had said earlier that morning. “I'm not _always_ worrying, I just—” She stops, and switches tactics. “Fine, please yourself then. Shame, though, Cresswell will be disappointed if you don't show. I know he was hoping you'd be there.”

Mary looks up at her. “Shit. Was he really? He said that?”

Lily nods encouragingly.

“Stupid wanker... fine, then. I'll just get my coat. Hang on.”

* * *

The stands are just starting to fill with students, and on the Slytherin end, Sev, Avery, Wilkes, Nicola and Shea are sidling their way into seats at the very top— far from the other students.

“Oh I do hope we win,” says Wilkes, rubbing his hands together. “I shouldn't like to see the cup go to Gryffindor again this year.”

“Didn't realise you cared so much about Quidditch, Wilkes.” Avery says.

“Isn't your cousin keeper on the Gryffindor team?” Shea asks.

Wilkes feigns ignorance. “Sorry, who? I'll be interested to see how Regulus does in his first match. He's nothing like his brother, is he? Quite a pleasant young man.”

“I don't even _know_ who they've got playing seeker,” says Shea musingly. “Regulus ought to be better than some second year. But their chasers have been a force to be reckoned with for years now. Our side's a bit of a mess in that department.”

“Who are their chasers?” Asks Wilkes.

“Potter, obviously...”

Snape scoffs.

Shea continues: “Some mudblood named Cresswell, and... that tall blonde girl in our year as well. McKinnon, isn't it.”

Severus notices Nicola Selwyn twitch at the sound of McKinnon’s name. He frowns. She’s been acting a little oddly all day, in his opinion.

“Oh, the _legs_!” Says Avery. “She's quite a looker that one, isn't she?”

“Is she? I think she's rather plain.” Nicola says snootily.

“Well, I'd shag her.” Says Avery. “I'll bet she's an absolute pixie in the sack, too. Quidditch reflexes and all.”

He laughs, and this visibly irritates Selwyn.

“Forget it, Avery. She'd never touch you. She's... friends with Mary MacDonald and… all that lot.”

Severus doesn’t miss her pointed look towards him; it’s obvious who she means by ‘all that lot.’

“Well I reckon I could pull her if I wanted,” says Avery sulkily.

Severus says nothing. Avery is always boasting about his conquests, about his prowess with girls— it’s not entirely clear to Severus whether or not it’s true.

Nicola scoffs. “Believe me, you couldn't. She doesn't like nasty little rats like you.”

“How do you know so bloody much about what she likes, anyway?”

“I don't, alright? I just know she wouldn't like _you_.”

Avery is about to sneer something back when Mulciber and Rosier arrive, sliding onto the bench next to Severus.

“Hello, all.” Mulciber greets them.

“I thought you weren't going to come to the game in the end,” says Avery.

Mulciber shrugs. “We decided it might be nice to spend some time with our friends.”

“'We' decided, did we?” Says Shea with a snort. “And here I was thinking Rosier didn't know how to make decisions on his own.”

“Watch it, you smug Paddy bastard.” Rosier growls.

Shea scoffs and ignores the insult. “Is it starting?” He says.

“Yes, look, there they go.” Wilkes points as a stream of red-clad figures rise into the air and form a straight line, followed by a stream of green-clad ones from the other side.

“Can't see anything from up here,” Wilkes complains. He extracts a monocle from his pocket and peers through it, panning across the line of Gryffindors. “There’s Potter, Cresswell…. the keeper… McKinnon… you're right, she is a looker. Seems a bit dozy, if you ask me, though.”

“You look like a prat with that thing on,” snaps Nicola, a little too aggressively.

“What’s your problem, Selwyn?” He says, bringing the monocle down. “It’s a Magnocle, for your information, I got it at Dervish and Banges…”

“Wilkes, give me that.” Says Mulciber suddenly.

Wilkes looks at him, affronted. “What? Why?”

Avery rolls his eyes, grabs the chain and rips it roughly from Wilkes' shirt. Wilkes gapes at him.

“He said give it to him, you prick.”

Avery hands it to Mulciber without another word, and Mulciber starts looking through it, not at the players but the crowd, scanning the sea of people intently. Severus frowns, wondering what he could be searching for.

* * *

_“Welcome, Hogwarts, to the first Quidditch match of the year!”_ The magically amplified voice Bertram Aubrey, the sixth year Ravenclaw who commentates school Quidditch matches, roars across the stadium.

The crowd goes wild as the opposing sides face each other, sizing each other up warily. Between them is Madam Hooch, who has the Quaffle tucked under her arm.

“ _My name is Bertram Aubrey and it's my absolute pleasure to be your official commentator during this match, a highly anticipated game between Slytherin—_ ”

He allows for cheering from the Slytherin side and booing from the Gryffindors.

James looks behind him. Marlene is drifting, slowly, to the right.

Finally she bumps into Fenwick, who is startled but manages to stay in control of his broom.

“Marlene, what the hell are you playing at?” James shouts at her.

“Sorry, I'm just... I can't really...”

_“—and defending champions, Gryffindor!”_

More cheering and booing, accordingly.

_“Slytherin's band of thugs, led by captain Thalia Rowle, fellow beater Dawes; chasers Levine, Andrews, MacNair; keeper Rossi, seeker Black. He's small, isn't he, looks like a different species compared to the rest of them...”_

While he speaks, James circles back towards Marlene, growing agitated.

“McKinnon, what's wrong with you? Are you alright to play? Should I call Madam Hooch?”

Marlene shakes her head urgently. “I'm fine, Potter. I can play. I can play. I can—"

James isn’t convinced, but he has to trust his player. “You fucking keep it together, Marlene.”

“... _Gryffindor's lineup is for some reason headed by James Potter, not the most senior or most talented member of their team—_ ”

“Oh, piss off, Aubrey!”

“— _followed by fellow chasers Cresswell and McKinnon, beaters Turner and Kane, keeper Fenwick, and seeker Hossain. We'll see if this ragtag team can live up to the high expectations set during last year's final.”_

James rolls his eyes, grips his broom handle.

Below, the trunk containing the bludgers and snitch rattles in anticipation.

“Captains, shake hands.” Commands Hooch.

James and Thalia Rowle, a burly and aggressive seventh year girl, fly towards each other and shake hands.

“Prepare to eat dirt, Potter.” Growls Thalia. She’s a lot bigger than he is.

James stares back at her fearlessly. “You'll have to tell me how it tastes.”

They fly back to their teams, waiting, waiting...

Hooch waves her wand and the trunk flies open— the bludgers shoot out like cannonballs in opposite directions and the snitch flits after them.

“ _The bludgers are loose, the snitch is out...”_

James breathes deeply, pressing himself flat to his broomstick. Time seems to slow down...

Madam Hooch launches the Quaffle into the air, it goes spinning upwards slowly slowly _slowly_ —

She blows her whistle, and the game snaps into action, James launching himself forward instantly into the sky.

* * *

_“And we're off, with Potter immediately taking possession. He's doing some tricky manoeuvres, which he may or may not be able to pull off— alright, he pulled that one off, granted. Passes to Cresswell— no, that was a feint, Potter still has possession—”_

“Is he just going to hang on to it the whole game? Seems a bit stupid.” Says Wilkes.

Severus sneers. “I'm sure Potter's just trying to show off.”

“I don't think so,” says Shea thoughtfully. “This is a pretty standard tactic, at least in pro Quidditch. You watch, in a minute they're going to start passing to each other as much as possible, then back to one, and so forth. Create as much confusion and unpredictability as possible.”

“Why aren't you on our team, Shea? Since you know so much about it and all.” Asks Avery.

Shea shrugs. “I would've tried out but I can't stand anyone on the team— they're all just Thalia Rowe's seventh year friends and twice as thick as she is.”

“They're all very large, certainly.” Agrees Wilkes.

“Yeah, that's what happens when you make a beater the captain. Strategy goes out the window. Look, here it comes.”

* * *

James, streaking through the sky and flanked by all three Slytherin chasers, dips low suddenly and throws the Quaffle to Cresswell, who catches it.

_“Actually passes to Cresswell this time, Cresswell with the Quaffle—"_

The Slytherins change their focus, but Cresswell has already passed to James, then crosses under him as the Slytherins bare down on him.

_“—back to Potter— back to Cresswell— Cresswell to McKinnon—”_

Cresswell throws it at Marlene and it falls right through her grasp.

_“—McKinnon flubs it and drops the Quaffle! Gryffindor has lost the Quaffle!”_

Slytherin chaser Macnair snatches it from under her and soars wide in the opposite direction, James and Cresswell in hot pursuit.

“What the hell was that, McKinnon?” James shouts angrily at Marlene as he flies past.

“ _Slytherin's MacNair now with possession, heading towards the Gryffindor hoops. Looks like he means business. Potter and Cresswell on his tail but he's ahead of them, and it looks like he's going to make it—"_

Macnair reaches the goalhoops and throws the Quaffle with all his might— but Fenwick blocks it, punting it at breakneck speed towards Marlene— who doesn't see it coming, and it bounces off her shoulder. It falls into the hands of a Slytherin chaser.

_“Fenwick saves rather nicely, but we're seeing an interesting playstyle from Gryffindor chaser McKinnon which seems to involve not paying any attention to the Quaffle at all. Slytherin's Andrews retakes the Quaffle.”_

James and Cresswell look at each other, realising that the game is entirely on them.

* * *

“What's wrong with McKinnon?” Says Shea. “We've all seen her play, she looks confunded or something.”

Avery snickers. “Yeah, or charmed out of her mind.”

Nicola's hand flies to her mouth.

_“Andrews immediately drops the Quaffle after taking a nasty bludger hit courtesy of Gryffindor's Turner. Cresswell has it again and he's off. Slytherin chasers hot on his tail, and he's having to bank steeply upwards to avoid them.”_

“What are you looking at, Mulciber?” Says Wilkes. “Nothing's happening on that side.”

Mulciber is still peering through the monocle towards the Gryffindor stands.

“There you are,” he says finally.

Mulciber stands up, shoving the monocle back at Wilkes.

“Here's your Magnocle back, Devereux.”

“Where are you going?” Asks Wilkes, taking it from him.

“Just spotted an old friend,” replies Mulciber cryptically. “Severus, come with me.”

“What for?” Severus says warily, but he gets to his feet.

“You'll see. We'll see the rest of you after the match.”

They leave, climbing down the stands.

“Where are they going?” Wilkes says, a little unhappy at being left out.

“Who cares?” Says Shea. “I want to know which brilliant, evil bastard on our side confunded McKinnon. This is hilarious. Absolutely despicable, but hilarious.”

“It's not funny,” says Nicola

He frowns at her, confused.

* * *

Cresswell is still tearing up towards the sky, being blocked in by all three of the Slytherin chasers. At the height of his ascent, they surround him.

“ _Looks like Cresswell's got nowhere left to go.”_

“Nowhere to go, Cresswell.” Macnair taunts him.

Cresswell shrugs, grins, and drops the Quaffle.

It drops fifty feet into James's waiting hands below.

_“But it looks like Cresswell and Potter have done a Porskoff Ploy, which isn't usually advisable but seems to have worked out alright in this case, given that the Slytherin chasers are all impressively unintelligent... Potter, once again with possession.”_

Unimpeded, James streaks towards the Slytherin goalhoops.

“All that's standing in his way now is the keeper, Rossi, we'll see if Rossi can—"

The keeper, Rossi, looks at him uncomprehendingly, and James doesn't hesitate a second before sending the Quaffle sailing through the leftmost hoop.

_“Nevermind that, then. Potter scores the first goal of the game. This is tense, isn't it? Clearly, Slytherin would've been hideously outmatched if one of Gryffindor's chasers didn't seem to be a few feathers short of an Augurey.”_

* * *

Mary and Lily are sitting in the Gryffindor stands, looking up worriedly.

“What's wrong with Marlene?”

“I don't know...” Lily replies, biting her lip. “She was acting so strangely this morning... I should've realised something was off.”

Hooch's whistle sounds.

_“And Slytherin's Macnair has just been told off for flagging.”_

“What's flagging?” Asks Lily.

“I think it's when they grab someone's broom.” Mary peers up at the struggle happening above them. “I think that bastard's just tried to pull Dirk off his broom.”

Lily’s eyes widen in concern. “What? Shouldn't that be a penalty?”

Sure enough, the whistle sounds again.

_“And penalty awarded to Gryffindor! Looks like Potter's calling for a time out, probably so he can smack some sense into their rogue chaser.”_

* * *

The Gryffindor team groups up at one end of the pitch, and James immediately rounds on Marlene.

“What. Is. _Happening_.” He snarls.

Marlene looks at him desperately. “I don't know, I can't focus, I can't focus on anything.”

James looks thunderous. “Then you'd better stay out of our fucking way.”

She starts to speak, but he interrupts.

“No, I don't want to hear anything you've got to say. I'll deal with you later. Cresswell, me and you will just have to do what we can between the two of us.”

Cresswell nods, breathing hard.

“Looks like their Chasers are even more rubbish than we thought, so I reckon we might be alright—"

“They're also more aggressive,” says James. “Macnair nearly tried to kill you.”

 “Nothing I can't handle, Potter.” Cresswell says calmly.

James takes a deep breath. “Alright. Alright. Aisha, you need to find me that fucking snitch and end this nightmare as quickly as possible while we're still ahead, you hear me.”

She nods.

“That's my girl. Alright, everyone ready? You heard that wanker on the megaphone, even down a chaser we're still better than them. It might not be pretty, but we're still going to win.”

Marlene looks absolutely despondent, stifles a sob, but the team ignores her.

“Alright, come on then.” Says James.

He takes the Quaffle from Hooch as all the players line up behind him for the penalty. Once again, the keeper is the only thing in his way.

James feints left, then punts the Quaffle neatly through the centre goalhoop with ease.

_“And to nobody's surprise, Potter scores!”_

James takes both hands off his broom handle to give his team two thumbs up as he soars away from the goals, grinning again.

* * *

Lily shields her eyes with her hand, trying to see what's happening. The players are zooming around in the air, with Cresswell and Potter ricocheting around the pitch, passing the Quaffle back and forth between them. Aubrey commentates this in a bored voice.

_“...Cresswell... Potter... back to Cresswell... Potter... Cresswell again... Potter again... Cresswell, Potter...”_

“Lily? Can I have a word?”

Lily and Mary turn to see Severus, wringing his hands anxiously. Lily looks at him, surprised, then at Mary— whose expression has instantly grown dark.

“Sev! What are you doing here?”

“I— I just need to talk to you. Er, in private.”

He casts Mary a nervous glance, and she glares back.

“Whatever you want to say, I'm sure you can say it here.” Mary says, arms crossed.

He looks around twitchily. “Well, it's sort of personal...”

 “Ooh, personal, is it?”

“Sev, maybe it can wait...” Lily says uncomfortably.

He takes a deep breath, seems to steel himself. “No, I'm afraid it really can't.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “Oh, just go, why don't you. I'll be here.”

She turns away from them to watch the match again. Lily stands up and follows Sev away, down the stairs.

_“Gryffindor beater Kane narrowly saves Potter from being clobbered by a bludger. Shame.”_

Severus leads Lily into a little alcove under the stands and stops, looking around nervously.

“What's so urgent, then?” Lily says, hands on her hips.

“Er, I, that is— I wanted to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Something that's— it's M— it's—” He can’t quite get the words out.

Lily frowns. Over her shoulder, Severus sees Mulciber climbing the stands towards where Mary still sits. He closes his mouth.

Lily, now concerned, places a hand on his shoulder. “What's going on, Sev?”

Sev looks at her hand, then away.

“It's Potter,” he invents wildly. “I came to warn you about Potter.”

Lily raises her eyebrows, sceptical. “You came to warn me about Potter. Well unless he's been brewing polyjuice potion, I don't think he's any immediate danger to us while he's flying around up there. What's got you so nervous?”

“I just think he's up to something, planning something, and whatever it is, it's trouble. I think you of all people ought to be careful.”

“ _I_ ought to be— Sev, what's this all about? What proof have you got?”

He twitches. “I haven't got any proof, alright, it's just...”

“I don't know what you're trying to tell me, Sev.” She frowns at him, remembering something. “Is it true you tried to curse Remus Lupin the other day? Dorcas Meadowes said you did.”

Severus wrenches away from her, defensive. “So what if I did? They were pushing me around and I was only defending myself, he's one of them isn't he? When have you ever seen him standing up for me when his mates push me around?

“I s'pose that's true, but I still don't think you should've done it.” Lily says.  “You don't want to be as bad as them, do you?”

Severus doesn't answer.

* * *

Mary is still watching the game when someone sits down in the seat next to her.

Thinking it's Lily, she turns to say something and freezes when she sees him, eyes going wide with fear.

“Mary! It's been a while, hasn't it?” He grins at her with gleaming teeth. She can’t help but be reminded of a wolf, or a dragon— he looks like he’s about to eat her.

“Not long enough,” she says tersely.”

Mulciber chuckles warmly. “Why don't you come with me?”

Mary goggles at him. “You're mad. I wouldn't go anywhere with you.”

“Now, that hurts my feelings.”

“As if you've got any.”

He pulls out his wand, resting it on his lap with the tip pointed casually at her.

Mary looks down at it, then out at the players still zooming around the pitch, not really seeing them. She could shout for help— Sirius Black is only two rows away, there’s loads of people around her who would help her—

_“Cresswell scores! Slytherin has barely touched the Quaffle so far, which is frankly so embarrassing they may never be able to live it down.”_

“I said, come with me.”

“No.”

Mulciber shrugs. “Well, I didn't want to do it this way, but you've left me no choice.”

He leans close to her, raises his wand to her neck. She swallows visibly, staring forward. He whispers the incantation in her ear.

“Imperio.”

The fear drains from Mary and her mind goes oddly, blissfully blank.

_Come with me, Mary, there’s a girl…_

She can feel it resounding in her mind even as she sees his lips move…

He stands, starts walking away. She follows.

* * *

Marlene skirts low along the side of the pitch, trying to avoid the other players. She figures the best she can do is try and keep an eye out for the snitch, and somehow let Aisha know if she spots it.

_“Potter scores! Again! The Cresswell-Potter duo is working so well together that it's actually becoming boring to watch. The Slytherin keeper ought to get his eyes checked.”_

Marlene twists around to see what's going on near the Slytherin hoops— she doesn't see Thalia Rowle carefully slip in front of her, and smashes roughly into her side. Thalia recovers quickly.

“Blatching! Ref! That was deliberate blatching! She flew right into me!”

Hooch's whistle sounds to signify the penalty to Slytherin.

James glares at Marlene as the teams line up again.

“Stop trying to help, McKinnon.”

“I wasn't! It was her, she blocked me on purpose.” Marlene protests.

James scoffs and ignores her, turning to watch as Macnair takes the Quaffle and approaches the goalhoops.

“Come on, Fenwick...” says Cresswell through gritted teeth.

Macnair feints centre and shoots right— it goes through the hoop, clipping the edge. For the first time the whole game, the Slytherin side erupts in cheers.

_“And Macnair manages to score, giving Slytherin something to cheer about. A ray of hope that will soon be crushed, I expect.”_

“Fuck,” swears James. “Now we have to fight them for possession again, thanks a lot McKinnon, really great.

“Just leave it, Potter, we'll get it back in two shakes.” Says Cresswell.

James looks angry and anxious as they fly back into position. “Aisha, find that fucking snitch!”

The Quaffle is launched into the air— bolstered by their small victory, Slytherin chaser Andrews seizes it.

James and Cresswell pursue him.

Andrews passes to Levine, who passes it back— Andrews scores.

_“Slytherin takes the Quaffle for a change, Andrews with the Quaffle... passes to Levine, who passes it back to him. Andrews approaching the Gryffindor posts- and he's scored. Slytherin now has... well, a whopping twenty points. That's one hundred-twenty to Gryffindor. This is just sad.”_

* * *

Lily storms purposefully back up the stands to where she was sitting, with Severus hurrying after her and looking anguished.

“Just go back to the Slytherin stands, Sev, I've already left Mary for too long and you didn't tell me anything that couldn't have waited until after the match.”

She passes the Marauders. Sirius Black sticks his foot out and trips Severus, who barely manages to grab onto the seat in front and stay on his feet.

Lily notices none of this, preoccupied with her sudden realisation that Mary has vanished.

“Great, now she's wandered off to who knows where. Thanks a lot, Sev. Mary's been having a really hard time of it and it was really important to me that she came out here today.”

Severus flushes, feeling truly and completely ashamed of himself. “I'm really, really sorry.”

Lily hardly seems to hear him.

“Look, I'll talk to you later. You can tell me all your mad theories about Potter and his mates then, I'm going back to the castle to find Mary.”

She hurries down the stands and away, leaving Severus to his torment.

“She didn't look very happy, did she?” Crows Black, and Pettigrew laughs.

Severus ignores them and hurries down the stands, into the tunnel that runs the circumference of the stadium.

* * *

Mulciber opens the door to a broom closet and holds it open for Mary.

“Get inside,” he orders.

She does and stands there, looking at him blankly. He follows her.

Mulciber regards her.

“Sooner or later I'm going to have to... deal with you, but first I want to have a bit of fun. I must say I rather like seeing you like this. This, here, this is the natural state of things. How it should be between wizards like me and jumped up little mudblood tarts like yourself. No insubordination, only deference.”

Mary doesn't react.

“Now Mary, I want you to tell me that I am your natural superior and you'll do whatever I say.”

When Mary speaks it is soft, barely a shadow of herself.

“You are my natural superior, and I'll do whatever you say.”

Mulciber's smile is wide and predatory.

“That's right,” he says.

* * *

Hooch's whistle blows.

_“And that's a foul! Penalty to Gryffindor.”_

Severus, barely hearing the tumult of the match, runs full tilt through the corridor under the stands, flinging open doors of broom closets and bathrooms. There's a horrible sick feeling in his stomach. Whatever's going to happen, he has to prevent it, he has to stop it—

“Mulciber? Mulciber?” He calls, but there’s no sign of Mulciber or MacDonald.

_“Looks like the snitch has been spotted, ladies and gentlemen! Hossein and Black are neck and neck, tearing after it— a capture now could mean either a close victory or absolute and humiliating defeat for Slytherin!”_

"Fuck!" Shouts Severus. "Mulciber!"

* * *

In the broom closet, Mulciber moves towards Mary.

“Now get on your knees.”

She does, dropping to her knees slowly. Mulciber grabs her by the ponytail and forces her to look upwards. She stares at him blankly, waiting for orders. He starts to undo the fly on his trousers.

“Good. That's where you belong. Now—"

He's about to say something else but then someone knocks madly on the door.

“Mulciber? Mulciber, are you in there?" 

Mulciber curses under his breath. "What is it?"

Severus's panicked voice floats through the door. "We've got to go. Professor McGonagall's coming this way, she's searching broom cupboards because apparently people have been putting Dungbombs in them—"

“Fuck,” says Mulciber. He does up his zipper, then pushes Mary aside and opens the door.

Severus is on the other side, looking agitated. “There you are. Come on, we'd better go back to the castle before anyone finds us here.”

He sees MacDonald, now sitting quietly against the wall of the closet where Mulciber threw her.

“What were you doing with her?” Severus says, not sure he wants to know the answer.

“Nevermind that, let's just get out of here.”

Severus hesitates. “What about her?”

“Forget about her. Mary, stay here and don't come out until someone finds you. And don't tell anyone anything.”

Severus stares at her… it _can’t_ be… Mulciber’s just a student, like him—

“Come on, hurry!” Mulciber exits the broom closet, and slams the door behind him. Severus gets one last look at Mary's vacant face before it shuts.

* * *

The Gryffindor team is gathered in the changing room, looking sombre. Marlene is sitting on a bench, looking distraught as James towers above her, a pillar of fury.

“What the hell happened out there, Marlene? What were you thinking? I don't care if you've been confunded of if you had too much to drink last night or whatever pitiful excuse you have to give me, you should never have jeopardized my team like that, never! I don't understand how you could be so stupid, so selfish, so reckless—”

“Alright, calm down, Potter.” Says Cresswell. “I think she's had enough. We won, didn't we?”

“Yeah, we won— _barely_! If Slytherin had caught the snitch instead... We could have lost everything because of her, everything!”

“Hardly _everything_ , is it? Just one Quidditch match.”

James glares at him, clearly not in agreement.

“I'd be interested to hear what she's got to say for herself,” says Fenwick.

They look at Marlene, who is on the verge of tears.

“Fine then,” snaps James. “Tell us, then, why you nearly fucked everything up for everyone in this room.”

Marlene takes a deep breath. When she speaks she takes small, shuddering gasps, trying very hard not to cry. “Last night... I was with a friend... we did some charms...”

Cresswell frowns, confused. “What's your homework got to do with it?”

“No, you're not listening. I did some _charms_. Bewitchments, you know...the bad kind. When I woke up this morning, I still felt... I was still... I thought it would've worn off by then, only it hadn't...I'm sorry. Please don't tell the professors, any of you, I'll be in so much trouble...”

“You've got to be joking,” says James, thunderstruck. “You've got to be bloody joking.”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t get it,” says Aisha.

“It’s like muggle drugs,” explains Fenwick. “Only a lot worse, these kinds of spells can go horribly wrong. Mess you up forever, in here.” He taps the side of his head

Aisha goes silent, wide-eyed in horror.

“So let me get this straight— you were high?” Cresswell says slowly.

“What? No, I said I was charmed. Weren't you listening?”

“High is what muggles say when they use drugs,” Fenwick says. He frowns, thoughtful. “I s'pose it's sort of the same thing.”

“I don't care what muggles call it. What I call it is idiotic.” James says.

“I'm sorry.” Marlene really is crying now.

James is pitiless. “Not good enough. I should've realised you were going off the deep end when you started with those bloody Boosting charms. Now this... until you get yourself sorted, McKinnon, I want you the hell off my team. Get out of here. Now.”

He points at the door.

“But—"

“Get out.”

He points towards the exit. She wipes at her tear-streaked face, picks up her kit and leaves.

As she heads towards the castle, head hanging in shame, she sees Nicola Selwyn and Corrin Shea a little ahead of her, sitting on a stone pillar and sharing a cigarette. Nicola looks at her, and Shea calls out as she passes.

“Oi, McKinnon, what was that out there? You haven't been confunded, have you?”

Marlene tries to ignore it.

“I asked you a question, McKinnon!”

“Leave her alone,” says Nicola.

Shea and Marlene pause, surprised.

“What did you say?” Says Shea.

“I said leave her alone, alright? She hasn't been confunded. She was charmed, alright? We both were.”

He looks from one to the other, bewildered. “You both— Nicola, what's going on?”

Nicola sighs, resigned to explaining. “When we were in the hospital wing we got to talking, and... I don't know, do I? We've been doing charms together lately, that's all, she's really good at them.”

“Oh that's all, is it?” He says incredulously, sliding off the pillar to stare at her. “And when were you thinking of telling me? Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I don't have to tell you everything I do, Corrin.” She says defensively. “Besides, I was going to tell you eventually. She's really good at them, like I said, I was still feeling it this morning... and so was she. Clearly.”

They look at Marlene, then at each other.

“McKinnon, fancy coming with us?” Nicola says.

“You must be joking,” says Marlene hollowly. “I've just been kicked off my bloody team!”

Nicola nods. “Exactly why you need to feel better.”

Marlene and Shea exchange uncertain glances, neither quite trusting the other.

“Come on, McKinnon, if you've already been kicked off what've you got to lose?”

Marlene bites her lip, seeing the truth in that.

* * *

The Gryffindor party in honour of their victory is in full swing, with loud rock n' roll music playing from a gramophone pushed against the wall. The DJ flips discs onto the player with a wave of his wand, and a group of students is boogie-ing in the center of the room, having a great time.

Lily is hovering alone at the edge of a group of people, holding a glass of punch and looking around the common room anxiously for either of her friends. She hasn’t seen them all evening.

Remus approaches her.

“Hey, Lily. Everything alright?”

“Hi Remus,” she says distractedly. “Yeah, everything's fine, I just can't find Marlene or Mary. I haven't seen them since the match and I'm starting to get worried.”

Remus frowns. “I don't know about Mary, but I'm sure Marlene just needed some time to herself. James takes Quidditch very seriously, I don't think he'd've been too happy with her after how she was playing.”

“Right,” Lily says.

They look over at James, who has hoisted little Aisha over his head, presenting her to the world as she laughs madly.

“Gryffindor's saviour, ladies and gentlemen!” He yells to the crowd. “The woman of the hour! Your seeker, Aisha Hossain! Remember her name!

There's whooping and cheering all around. Aisha waves, a little shyly but looking pleased all the same.

Lily sighs. “Why can't he be as nice to everyone else as he is to that little girl?”

Remus laughs.

“He's not so bad deep down, honest.” He says.

“Says you. I know what I've seen.”

“Yeah, I s'pose it's too much to hope the two of you'd ever get along.” Remus says wryly.

“You can say that again. It was a good game, though, wasn't it, all things considered?”

“There is an awful lot to consider.”

“You can say _that_ again, too.” Says Lily. “I've got no idea what was wrong with Marlene, did James say anything to you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, none of the team will talk about it.”

Lily scans the room again, fretful. “And I know I asked earlier, but are you sure you haven't seen Mary anywhere? I was so sure she'd be here.”

“I'm really sorry Lily, I haven't seen either of them anywhere.”

The DJ switches the record over with a wave of his wand; Lily hear the first strains of an upbeat tune she recognises— Steve Harley’s Make Me Smile— she grins a little. The tune is infectious, it’s one she and Sev had listened to all summer. “Well I don't know, maybe they both need some time on their own. Maybe I am worrying too much...”

“It's possible,” Remus says amusedly.

She laughs. “Right, well, no more of that. Come on, Remus, let's dance then!”

“Oh, no, I don't—"

“'Course you do, come on!”

She pulls him to his feet, he reluctantly goes with her. She moves to the beat, and he follows along a little self-consciously. Her enthusiasm is contagious, however, and he soon starts getting into it a little more.

"—c _ome up and see me, make me smile_ —"

James, who is spinning Aisha around, sees them and gets distracted mid-twirl. What on earth is Remus doing dancing with Lily Evans? He feels an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach.

"—o _r do what you want, running wild—_ "

“Hang on, Aisha, I think I need another drink.”

Fenwick appears out of nowhere. “I'll take her off your hands. You're much too good for the likes of Potter, anyway, Aisha.”

Fenwick, who is almost twice Aisha's height, bows to her exaggeratedly.

“May I have this dance, O lady saviour.”

“You can if you never call me that again,” says Aisha, giggling.

“Deal!”

Laughing, James heads to the food table. He stops by the two bowls of punch and contemplates them. Dorcas joins him.

“Which one is it that's spiked?” She says.

James turns to look at her, mock outraged. “Are you suggesting I spiked the punch? What do you take me for?”

She eyes him, and he gives in.

“Alright, yeah, it's the orange-y one. I told Aisha it was Dirigible plum juice to make sure she steers well clear.”

Dorcas laughs and ladles him a glass, then one for herself.

“Cheers,” she says.

“Cheers,” says James.

They clink glasses, drink, then look at each other a little awkwardly.

“You were really good out there. Cresswell was too, but—"

“But I was better?”

She pushes him gently, affectionately.

“I didn't say that, you prat. Although I s'pose I wouldn't know. I wasn't really paying attention to Cresswell, to be honest.”

James grins, pleased. “Oh, is that right?”

“Yeah, that's right.”

James takes a courageous swig of punch, draining the glass. He sets it down.

“Right, well... d'you feel like dancing?

Dorcas smiles and takes his hand.

They dance for a while, and James tries to not look at Remus and Evans, who seem to be having a great time together. For some reason, he feels annoyed with Remus—

“James?” Says Dorcas.

“Sorry,” he says. “Got distracted.”

And he twirls her away from Remus and Evans. They have fun for a while, and James finds he’s able to relax properly for the first time all day. 

After the song ends, though, it grows awkward again.

“Get you another drink?” He offers.

“Yeah, go on then.”

He goes to do so and returns quickly to her side with the drinks. He hands her one.

James ruffles his hair. “Er, so, what do you—”

He's interrupted by Sirius appearing, slinging a companionable arm around his neck.

“You two aren't still drinking that disgusting plum juice, are you? You know, I've still got some of the strong stuff.”

He shows them a mostly-full bottle of Firewhisky.

“Fancy cracking it open?

James looks at Dorcas, who shrugs, blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

* * *

It's dark, and Mary can only see thanks to a small patch of moonlight coming in through the roof. She shivers, wishing she was in bed but unable to move.

Then the door opens, flooding the room with light—

As her eyes adjust to the brightness, she makes out Severus Snape silhouetted in the doorway, wand tip glowing brightly.

“There. I've found you.” He says, expression unreadable. “You can go back to the castle now.”

She stands up shakily, walks past him without even looking.

* * *

A group of students are arranged in a semi-circle in front of the fire, sharing a bottle of firewhisky. James and Dorcas are on the sofa next to each other, legs very close together indeed.

Lily sits between Remus and Cresswell, feeling more than a little out of place.

“Well Thalia Rowle and her friends are leaving school next year, aren't they?” Fenwick is saying. “That leaves Slytherin with what, all of two players.”

James nods. “Right. I s'pose Andrews will be captain next year, that's a laugh. I doubt he's ever had a clever or original thought in his life.”

“Because you're just full of those, aren't you, Potter.” Says Lily before she can stop herself.

He looks over at her with irritation.

“Did anyone ask you, Evans? Why are you here, anyway?”

“Leave it out, James.” Says Remus.

“And why should he?” Demands Dorcas. “It wasn't _him_ being rude, was it?”

She shoots Lily a dirty look as well.

“Well, he was, technically.” Fenwick points out.

“To a _Slytherin_. Hardly counts, does it?”

There's laughter, not shared by Lily.

“Well if that's your policy no wonder you're so horrible to everyone. I s'pose you think you can just get away with anything, don't you.”

 He takes his arm from around Dorcas to lean forward and address her directly. “Well, that'll be the day. I seem to be in detention half the time. What's this about, Evans? Not still worked up over poor old Snivellus, are you?”

“Don't call him that,” snaps Lily. “See, this is exactly what I mean. You think just because Sev's a Slytherin, and he's got no friends, and because you don't like him—"

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter. “Got no friends? You're delusional. I suppose Mulciber and that lot are more of just casual acquaintances, are they?”

 “Hang on,” says Fenwick. “Are we talking about that greasy kid that hangs around with Mulciber and Rosier, the one who's always muttering curses and other rubbish under his breath? Something something Snape?”

“Yeah, that's him alright.” Peter says darkly.

Fenwick eyes Lily critically. “Evans, is it? I'll give you some advice. When you get to be my age—"

“You're only seventeen, Benj.” Interjects Cresswell with a snicker.

Fenwick continues as if he hadn't spoken

“—you start realising that some people just aren't worth it. And let me tell you, that Snape fellow is bad news. Him and the rest of his lot. They're more than just ugly and annoying, they're downright dangerous. It's not a good time to be friends with Slytherins.”

“Isn't that a little prejudiced?” Asks Lily.

He shakes his head. “You don't get it. But sadly, you will soon.”

“What do you know about it? You don't even know him. I don't even know _you_. Actually, Potter, you're right. Why am I even here?” She shakes her head and stands up. “I'm going to bed. You can all stay here and say nasty things behind my back, or whatever it is you like to do.”

Lily leaves stormily, and Remus stares, disappointed, after her.

“Great,” he says dejectedly. “Well done, James. I don't understand why you're always so horrible to her.

“Me? She was the one who started it. Why do you even care, Remus?” He asks suspiciously.

“You don't fancy Evans, do you?” Asks Dorcas, crinkling her nose.

James stiffens as he waits for the answer. Remus having a thing for Little Miss Perfect is the last thing he needs. To his dismay, Remus turns a little pink.

“What? No, of course I don't!”

“Why do any of us care?” Sirius says, bored. “We’re _always_ talking about Evans. She can keep being friends with Snape if she bloody well likes, can't she? What's it to any of us?

“Really, Black?” Says Fenwick sharply. “You don't see how it's dangerous for a Muggleborn girl to be involved with someone in Mulciber's crowd? You ought to know better than anyone here what they're like.”

“Why would _I_ know better than anyone?” Sirius says, a little defensively.

“Your brother's one of them, isn't he? And your cousin was Mulciber's biggest hero when we were in first year. I remember her vividly, Merlin, she was horrible.”

“Oh. Bellatrix, yeah.” Says Sirius with a shudder. “I see what you mean, I would know.”

“It's just a shame. Evans seems like a nice girl, all things considered. She doesn't deserve to be mixed up in all that.” Fenwick sighs heavily, getting to his feet as well. “Well now that I've officially ruined the mood, I'll be off to bed as well. I'll leave you kids to it.”

Cresswell rolls his eyes. “You're seventeen. You're barely more than a kid yourself.”

Fenwick ignores him. “Goodnight, my beautiful children. And Sirius.”

Sirius gives him a confused look as he leaves, but Fenwick only grins back.

“Marlene's right, he really is weird, isn't he?” Says Cresswell as he leaves.

The atmosphere perceptibly changes at the mention of Marlene, a topic they'd all been avoiding. Cresswell looks guiltily at James.

“Great, thanks, Cresswell. I was drinking to forget and now you've reminded me.” He stands too. “Fancy going for a walk, Dorcas?”

“Yeah, where to?” She replies.

He helps her to her feet.

“I don't know, anywhere.”

She nods, takes his arm and they head together towards the portrait hole. Sirius watches them go sulkily.

“Pass me that bottle, Peter.”

Peter passes the bottle, which is now nearly empty.

Cresswell sighs as the portrait hole swings shut. “Christ, everyone's so tightly wound tonight. You'd think we lost or something.”

“Are James and Dorcas together?” Asks Peter.

Remus frowns. “I know they're friends, he hasn't said anything else to me.”

They look at Sirius expectantly, waiting for him to shed light on the situation. He only shrugs moodily. “How should I know?”

“Well if he is, maybe he could get her to ask Blanca out for me.”

“You've got a mouth that works, haven't you Pete? Ask her yourself.” Sirius snaps, not in the mood to talk about girls.

“Think I’ll go to bed as well,” Remus says, getting to his feet. “Good flying today, Cresswell.”

“Hang on, what if James forgets—" Peter stops, glances at Cresswell nervously. “—the incantation. For our furry problem. Every night, James said.”

“You lot aren't back to doing your weird incantations again, are you?” Says Cresswell. “Christ, can't a bloke have some peace and quiet in his own dormitory?”

“Just plug your ears, Cresswell.” Sirius says. “I'd almost forgot too, to be honest.”

“Good thing I reminded you then. Good thing I _remembered_.” Peter looks worriedly at the portrait hole.

“I'm sure James will remember.”

“What about Remus?” Cresswell says.

Sirius is quick to answer.

“Remus never forgets anything. Memory like a Jobberknoll, him.”

“Jobber-what? Right, that's it, I've had enough of you lot for one night. I'll see you tomorrow.” Cresswell stands, just as the portrait hole opens.

Mary MacDonald enters, looking around disorientedly.

“Mary?” Says Cresswell. “Do you know what time it is? Where were you?”

“I was…” She frowns, seemingly unable to remember.

“Are you alright?” He peers at her in concern.

She hugs him, and he pats her back nervously.

“You’re shaking,” Cresswell says. “Whats—”

“I’m… I’m fine,” Mary says, drifting towards the spiral staircases. “See you later.”

He stares after her, bewildered.

* * *

 “I don't wander 'round much at night, really. It's so quiet.” Says Dorcas.

They’re wandering around the shadowy seventh floor in companionable, if slightly awkward, silence. James reaches for her hand.

“Then you're missing the best part of Hogwarts. Nobody around means you can go anywhere you like.”

“Where are we going, though? We've passed this same tapestry twice now.”

“Yeah, it is a bit of an eyesore, isn't it.” James says.

They stop and look at it. It depicts a man attempting to teach a group of trolls to do the ballet.

“Maybe we should go back soon,” says Dorcas.

James turns around, and spots a door on the opposite wall that hadn't been there before. Not only that, but he could swear it isn’t on the map, nor has he ever seen it in all his years at Hogwarts.

“Hang on, what's through that door? I've never noticed it before.”

She frowns. “Don't know, I've never noticed it either.”

He grins, tugs on her hand lightly.

“Well come on then, let's find out.”

He pushes the door open and they enter into a room James _knows_ he’s never seen before.

It’s spacious, beautifully lit with hundreds upon hundreds of candles. Rose petals line the floor, leading to a large, single, four poster bed with a canopy in the centre of the room.

Dorcas and James look around in wonder as they enter.

“This is... beautiful.” Dorcas says in wonder. “What is this room?”

James takes it in. “I have no idea. And that's saying something, I thought I knew this school inside and out.” He stares at the four-poster bed, his mind doing cartwheels. It seemed like this room, and its bed, and its rose petals had appeared just at the right time. Like Hogwarts had somehow known— he swallows, suddenly nervous.

“Shows what any of us know, right?”

“Right.”

Dorcas picks up a whole rose and puts it to her nose, smelling it. “Are you sure you didn't do all this?”

“I wish I could say I did, but that would be, well, a big fat lie.”

“I suppose it doesn't matter, does it? It's perfect.” She sits on the edge of the bed and pats the space next to her, inviting him to sit down. She holds the rose out for him to inspect.

“Yeah, it's a really pretty flower, Dorcas. I—"

He's more nervous than he thought he would be, normally unshakable confidence being put to the test. This is somehow a lot more difficult than Quidditch.

She seems to read his mind. “It's alright if you're nervous, James. I am too.”

“Really? You don't seem like it.”

“Well, I'm good at pretending.”

She takes his hand.

“I've never done this before,” he admits.

“No, neither have I.”

He sits down next to her. “Are you sure you want to?”

She nods.

“Are you?”

He kisses her by way of answer. It starts fairly innocent but grows deeper, Dorcas undoing the buttons of his shirt and pushing it off over his shoulders.

They break apart for a second, regarding each other.

Wordlessly, she lifts her arms and lets him pull her top over her head.

It falls to the floor, forgotten about as she pulls him close again.

* * *

Lily lies awake, unable to sleep. After a moment, she gets up, pours herself a glass of water from the glass pitcher near the door.

She looks around at the other beds— first at Blanca's, occupied by a peacefully slumbering Blanca. Then at Dorcas's, Marlene's, and finally Mary's. All empty.

“Shit,” Lily says, coming to a decision.

She hurries back to her bed and snatches her wand off her bedside table, shrugging on her dressing gown.

Just as she does, the door opens and Mary creeps in.

“Mary!”

She hurries to her side and hugs her. Mary is stiff at first, then softens into the hug, trembling a little.

“Where on earth have you been?” Lily demands. “I've been worried sick, I have. I was just about to go out looking for you. Where were you? What happened?”

Mary looks at her, haunted. “Oh Lily... I don't know... I don't know what's happened... I can't remember anything...”

She starts to cry quietly, shoulders shaking. Alarmed, Lily holds her tightly, leading her back to her bed.

“There, there. It's alright, everything's alright now, hush.”

Mary gets into her bed, and after a moment, Lily gets in after her.

“I'm right here, alright? Just like when we were in first year and you used to get nightmares about the forest. Remember that?”

Mary nods.

“Just try to sleep, Mary. Everything will be brighter in the morning.”


	5. This Is a War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the shadow of a Death Eater attack, the Gryffindors face their own troubles within the walls of Hogwarts. Lily feels more alone than ever, and the Marauders take an important step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never really been clear on whether Animagi can choose what animal they become; since every animagus we know of seems to resemble their animal I personally always believed you can't choose, like your patronus. But imagine if you were something really useless like a slug....

_Birmingham, 1975_

Grey ash drifts through the air.

It covers everything nearby, the street, the cars, the rubble—

A building nearby has been completely and totally obliterated, seemingly by a large explosion. Only enough is left to be able to make out the basic structure of the building, once grand and official.

Alice Davies steps out of the building through a gap in the wall. She is young, sweet-faced, with short dark hair and grey robes lightly covered in ash.

She turns back to take another look at the wreckage, sighing.

Then with a crack, four wizards apparate behind her in a plume of ash. She seems to have been expecting them, as she turns to greet them as the ash clears.

The first, Frank Longbottom, is a serious young man around her age with dark curly hair. At Frank's side is Dorian Dearborn, a greying, battle-scarred man. They both wear the same grey robes she does.

“Alice, you alright?” Says Frank.

“I'm fine,” she replies, casting Frank a fond look. Honestly, he’s so bad at acting professional.

“What's the situation?” Asks Dearborn.

“Nobody's here, sir... There's nothing left."

“Terrible business, terrible.” Says Eugenia Jenkins, the Minister for Magic. She is a slightly disheveled older woman with wispy white hair and black robes. Jenkins sneezes into a handkerchief.

The fourth man is her boss, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Harold Minchum, who takes in the scene with an intense focus, measuring the situation. Minchum is also dressed in black, but he is put together and his hair is neatly parted. The antithesis of Jenkins, thinks Alice.

“Have the Obliviators finished?” Minchum says.

“Yes, sir. The muggles in the surrounding area remember the explosion but not, well, the Dark Mark.”

Minchum frowns at her. “Is that what we're calling it now?”

Frank jumps to her rescue. “I'm not sure where it started, sir, but it seems to have caught on. We couldn't stop the Prophet any more than we can with 'Death Eaters'.”

Jenkins sniffles. “We ought not to give these hoodlums any more credibility than they've already been given. This has to be kept quiet as possible.”

"All due respect, minister,” Says Alice. “But I should think we're dealing with a bit more than just 'hoodlums' here. And people will find out, one way or the other.”

“People mustn't be given cause to panic, or things will only grow more desperate.” Jenkins says.

Minchum turns to Dearborn. “I'm doubling auror presence in all major population areas. We need to start arriving on scene _before_ these attacks happen.”

Dearborn nods. “I'll inform Crouch.”

“Thank you, Dearborn.” Says Jenkins.

Minchum’s eyes flicker towards the Minister, then away. “Tell him I want flying patrols night and day, as well as Aurors on the streets.”

“Yes, sir.” Dearborn apparates away in a cloud of ash.

“Longbottom and Davies,” says Minchum, and they stand to attention. “You'll be reassigned to London starting tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Alice says, exchanging a glance with Frank.

“Luckily the muggles seem to be dealing with their own troubles,” says the Minister. “Or else it would be a hell of a job trying to cover these up. As it is, their prime minister informs me they've got their own hands full with something called the 'I.N.A.'.”

Minchum seems to be struggling not to lose his patience. “This is the third attack in as many months, _Minister_. They're getting more frequent. Don't you think it's high time we stopped worrying so much about appearances and more about fighting these 'Death Eaters'?”

She waves him away. “Now, Minchum, I should think I'd know how to do my own job better than you would, don't you agree?”

He looks as if he really doesn't, but holds his tongue.

“Finish up here,” orders Jenkins. “Then report back and we'll figure out what to say to the papers.”

She apparates away.

Alice watches the plume of ash caused by the Minister's sudden disappearance rise and fall, thinking.

* * *

It's breakfast in the great hall, and owls are swooping down to distribute the morning post among the students.

Up in the rafters, a handsome screech owl with a rolled-up newspaper in his claw ruffles his feathers, then takes off.

He spirals down, down, down to the Gryffindor table, where he drops the newspaper into the waiting hands of Peter Pettigrew.

Peter unrolls it and, without looking at the cover, opens it immediately to one of the pages near the back.

Next to him, Remus is looking at his eggs distastefully.

“Not hungry, Remus?” Says James sympathetically.

“No, not really. I'm still a bit queasy, you know, it always takes a few days after a full moon for me to feel back to normal.”

“As if becoming a werewolf for a night isn't bad enough,” says Peter, not bothering to keep his voice down. His face is totally obscured by the Daily Prophet.

“Peter, shut up, will you?” James snaps, looking around in case anyone heard.

He doesn't notice the front page, but Sirius does, eyes going wide.

SO-CALLED 'DEATH EATER' GANG STRIKES AGAIN IN BIRMINGHAM, MINISTER JENKINS PUSHED TO RESIGN

Peter sets the paper down flat, revealing his guilty face.

“Oops. Sorry, Remus.”

“No harm done,” says Remus mildly. “I don't think anyone heard. And he's right, isn't he. The full moon's bad enough on its own.”

“Well, next full moon's going to be better, wait and see.” James says.

“Peter, give me that paper.” Says Sirius suddenly.

“What? Why?”

“Just give it here.”

Peter passes it across to him, and Sirius closes it, displaying the front cover to all of them.

“Oh. Shit.” Peter says, face going white.

“There's been a lot more attacks this year, hasn't there?” Remus says worriedly.

James reads aloud from the article: “‘It's been five years since the first rumours of a shadowy wizard known only as the 'Dark Lord' began accruing followers and spreading his message of pureblood supremacy across the wizarding world. During these years, numerous disappearances as well as attacks on Muggle establishments have been credited to this man and his followers, who call themselves 'Death Eaters'. This past year the number of attacks has been steadily increasing, culminating in the latest on a Muggle courthouse in Birmingham at about ten p.m. last night. Around fifteen Muggles are estimated to have perished, though reports vary. Officials and citizens alike have started calling for the resignation of Prime Minister Eugenia Jenkins and the appointment of a candidate more suited to deal with this escalating situation, which some are calling a matter of national security—’”

He stops, looks around at his friends.

“Death Eaters?” Repeats Sirius. “That's what these maniacs are calling themselves now?”

He looks darkly over at the Slytherin table, where Mulciber’s gang is in close conference. Regulus sees him looking and holds his gaze, impassive, until Sirius looks away again quickly. He's not the only one staring, however— all eyes in the Great Hall seem to be directed towards that particular little group.

Remus is poring over the article. “Things are getting really bad, aren't they?”

“I wonder if Jenkins will resign,” says James thoughtfully. “She and my parents are good friends, I've met her loads of times.”

Remus squints at the paper. “Says here the man slated for her replacement is uh... Harold Minchum. Says he's got a more hardline stance on dealing with the Death Eaters than Jenkins.”

“Maybe that's good then, I don't know.” Says James.

“‘Minchum is quoted as saying 'This is a war, and we've bloody well got to treat it like one.'’” Reads Remus.

The concept of 'war' takes a moment to hit home on all of them.

“Do you reckon they knew it was going to happen?” Says Sirius.

“Who?” Asks James.

Sirius nods towards the Slytherin table.

As one, the group of Slytherins get to their feet, and led by Mulciber they exit the Great Hall, accompanied by a storm of whispering. They ignore the scrutiny.

Just as the Slytherins reach the door, Mary enters the great hall with Lily.

There's a long, tense pause as Mulciber looks at Mary, and Mary looks back with a slowly dawning terror.

“Get out of my way,” says Mulciber.

She moves aside without a word, and he continues, cronies in tow. Severus is last.

“Hi, Sev.” Says Lily, trying for a cheery grin.

He only gives her a quick, awkward smile, not really looking at her and avoiding looking at Mary altogether. Lily sighs and they head to the Gryffindor table, where Cresswell is sitting, also reading the Prophet.

“Morning, Dirk.” Lily says as they sit.

 He looks at them, face filled with apprehension.

“Morning... you haven't seen yet, have you?”

“Seen what?”

He pushes the newspaper towards her, and Lily reads it quickly with growing horror.

“Christ, not again.”

 “Things are really getting bad,” says Cresswell worriedly.

“‘Minchum is quoted as saying 'This is a war, and we've bloody well got to treat it like one'.’” Lily reads aloud.

“A war...I didn't sign up for a war.” Says Cresswell. “I didn't sign up for none of this. None of us did. I was just a regular boy from Leeds. All I wanted was to play football... now I've got to stay up worrying if it's my bloody dad's house that's going to be blown up next.”

Lily bites her lip. “I'm sure that's not going to happen, Dirk. It looks like this Minchum is serious about shutting these Death Eaters down. With any luck he'll be able to stop more Muggles from getting hurt.”

“We can't know that, though, can we?” He says.

“I s'pose we can't. What do you think, Mary?”

They look at Mary, whose attention has drifted far from the conversation.

She starts as she hears her name. “Sorry, what?”

“Lily asked what you thought about it,” prompts Cresswell.

“Oh... I don't know...” Mary says absently.

Dirk and Lily exchange a worried glance.

“Aren't you going to have any breakfast, Mary?

Mary regards the food before her. “What? Oh, no, I don't think so. I think I need to... I'll see you both in class later on.”

She shoulders her bag and leaves.

“Alright, something is really wrong.” Cresswell says, staring after her.

“We've known something's really wrong for ages now,” says Lily.

He nods. “Ever since the Quidditch match.”

“Well, I think it started before that, but yes. That's when it got really bad. Do you think its time we told a teacher?”

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe you could just ask your boyfriend.”

 “My boyfriend?” Repeats Lily, uncomprehending.

The look in Cresswell’s eyes isn’t very friendly. “You know. Snape. This has to have been Rosier or Mulciber or one of them. He might've been in on it. Who knows, maybe they were acting out orders from these Death Eaters.”

Lily flinches as if Cresswell has slapped her. “Oh, don't say that.”

“Oh yeah? And why shouldn't I?” Says Cresswell savagely. “We all know if that lot aren't Death Eaters already they will be soon enough.”

Lily shakes her head. “Sev's not a Death Eater. No way.”

Cresswell gives her an irritated look and stands up too.

“You're totally delusional. It doesn't matter though, does it? Either way, if I find out your Snape's done something to Mary, I'll kill him, I will.”

She can't think of anything to say.

“I'm going to see if I can find Mary. I'll see you later, Lily.” He turns on his heel and marches away from her.

Lily stares after him, hurt.

* * *

“Good morning, boys!” Says the Fat Lady jovially as they approach.

“Morning! And Mens Rea.” Replies Remus

“I always think that sounds like 'men's rear'.” Says Sirius.

The Fat Lady giggles as she swings open.

“Yes, quite...”

Remus walks through, but before Sirius and Peter can follow him through, James grabs them both by the arm and pulls them backwards just before it shuts.

“What is it?” Says Sirius.

“I want a word while Remus can't hear, come on.”

He leads the way to the tapestry. The Fat Lady peers down at Sirius's rear as they go.

“What did you want to talk about?” Peter says.

James leans forward conspiratorially. “We're doing it tonight. I don't want to tell Remus yet in case something goes wrong but everything's set. Tonight, we do the spell. Are you both ready?”

They nod.

“Yeah, I've been doing the incantation every night, every single one. And I've been making sure Sirius has, too.”

James claps him on the back. “Proud of you, Pete, although to be honest with you I'm not sure the incantation is _really_ necessary. I just thought- better safe than sorry, right?”

“You mean we might not have had to keep these horrible leaves in our mouths all this time?” Sirius says.

“I said I'm not _sure_. Besides, the leaves are part of the final spell. Best keep them in, it's just one more day after all. Alright, Remus has patrols this evening so we'll do it then, once me and Sirius get out of detention. Everybody clear?”

They nod again.

“Alright then. Go find Remus. He'll probably be confused so just... make something up. I'll be in the library double checking something until class.”

As soon as they’re gone, Severus crawls out of his hiding place behind some old crates. He peers carefully out of the tapestry before taking off after Potter.

* * *

Lily is alone near the entrance of the library, hovering a little awkwardly.

Severus comes tearing up, disheveled and in a great hurry. Lily perks up when she sees him.

“Sev!”

He looks at her, breathing heavily. “Oh. Hi Lily, look I really have to—"

“It's been ages since we've spent any time together, hasn't it? D'you fancy getting started on that potions essay with me?”

“What? Look, I haven't got time to talk right now, I'm in a bit of a hurry.”

Lily’s face falls in disappointment. “Oh. Alright then. But I just wanted to ask you if you knew anything about what might've happened to Mar—"

Before she can finish, he spots something in the library and interrupts her.

“Sorry Lily, I've really got to go.”

With that he leaves her there, dejected.

“Christ, what _is_ it about me?” She says to herself, before sighing and walking away.

* * *

Through a small gap in a bookshelf, Severus can see Potter sitting on a table and frowning down at a book. He squints to try and make out what book it is, but suddenly, Potter spots something to his left, grins, and gets to his feet, setting the book down.

Severus shifts to try and be able to see what this is—

It’s a girl, one he vaguely recognises as being in Lily’s dormitory. She says something— Severus strains to hear— and he pulls her towards him and to Sev’s surprise they start kissing.

Sev keeps watching, until someone taps him on the shoulder.

“What do you think you're doing?”

It’s that Gryffindor chaser, Cresswell. He stands there, arms crossed, looking at Severus with venom.

“No, I wasn't doing anything, I wasn't—” Splutters Severus, trying to hide the gap in the bookshelf with his body.

“What were you looking at?”

He shoves Severus out of the way and takes a peek. One second is all he needs to know what Sev was looking at, and he turns on him.

“You perverted little freak,” he snarls. “This how you get your rocks off, is it?”

“No, it's not. I didn't know they'd start—"

“Just shut your fucking mouth.”

Severus does, immediately.

Cresswell towers over him. “I was in here looking for Mary MacDonald. Have you seen her? You know, the girl you and your mates have been constantly tormenting. Know anything about that?”

Severus shakes his head urgently, eyes going wide.

Cresswell doesn’t look as if he believes him. “Right. If I find out you've done anything to her, if you've even so much as looked at her funny, I'll beat the living daylights out of you. No need for wands, a good old fashioned muggle tussle'll do. See how your precious dark arts help you then. I ever catch you spying or anything weird like that again, it'll be the same. Now fuck off.”

Severus scampers away as fast as he possibly can. Dirk leans against the bookshelf for a second, frowns, then peers through the crack again.

He grins, shaking his head, and leaves the library.

* * *

Mary sits in a stall in the girls’ toilet, having a smoke. Haunted and shaky, she leans against the side of the stall with her eyes closed.

She hears the sound of someone coming in and she puts the cigarette out against the wall hurriedly. She stands up and lifts the lid so she can throw it in the toilet, then starts to unlock the door— but stops when she hears voices.

“His face was priceless, I never thought that wanker could look so shocked.”

With a jolt of recognition, Mary realises it’s Marlene. With another jolt, she realises how long it’s been since she’s really spoken to her best friend.

“Oh you'd be surprised what a wide range of expressions Corrin actually has when you get to know him.”

They both laugh.

Mary presses her eye to the crack.

Marlene is leaning against a sink, sharing a cigarette and laughing with none other than Nicola Selwyn. Mary feels her stomach turn to ice.

“You're alright, really, McKinnon. For a Gryffindor.” Says Selwyn.

Marlene grins. “And you're alright for a Slytherin. You're just prickly on the outside is all.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“S'pose not. Still, I was surprised how different you both are from all the rest of your friends.

“Well, yeah. We only hang around with them because—” She stops, thinking it over. “I've no idea, actually. We just always have, ever since we were kids. And our parents were all friends before that.”

Marlene frowns in distaste. “Oh, that's too weird, that is.”

“Yeah it is a bit,” says Selwyn. “Never thought about it much before, to be honest. In any case, anybody remotely sane would need charms to get through the pain of being around Wilkes and Avery all the time. Or that nasty little Snape.”

“Yeah, my— one of my dorm mates is friends with him. Can't understand why, none of us can.”

Nicola laughs. “What, the famous Evans? Yeah, we haven't stopped hearing about how much he wants to fuck her since Avery found out about it.”

Marlene looks taken aback by this and more than a little nauseated, but Nicola doesn't notice.

Inside the stall, Mary has to look away, fighting tears.

Nicola continues. “Don't see what all the fuss is about, personally, but every sick twisted little rat has to have his sick twisted little obsessions, I s'pose...”

The bell rings, and Nicola drops the cigarette in the sink.

“Well, I'll see you later then.”

She touches Marlene's arm as she leaves, and Marlene turns to face the mirror.

Mary unlocks the door and comes out, eyes a little watery.

“What were you doing with her?” She demands.

Marlene gives a little shriek of surprise.

“Fuck, Mary! I—"

She immediately looks guilty, realising that Mary must have overheard it all.

“Oh, Mary, I'm... I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was just so scared you'd be angry at me like everyone else. I just couldn't bear it, I couldn't—"

“Save it, Marlene. Just... whatever it is, I don't care.”

She starts to leave, but Marlene grabs her arm.

“Hang on, Mary, can I please just explain myself?”

Mary shrugs listlessly.

“Fine,” she says.

“You know when I got thrown off the team?” Marlene says. “Nobody talked to me for days and days. Do you know what it's like to be the most hated person in all of Gryffindor? Even Lily was mad at me over something silly, I don't know. And after the match you were always off doing Merlin knows what.”

At the mention of the match, Mary's heart gives a lurch.

“But Nicola and Shea were nice to me,” continues Marlene. “Well, not nice, exactly. But they're honest, and they don't make me feel like I'm being judged all the time. They're not like the other Slytherins, not like Rosier or Mulciber at all...”

Mary stiffens. Suddenly, she can’t bear to be in the same room as Marlene. “Just stop talking, Marlene. You don't know what you're on about.”

She shoves her away, without much energy. It still takes Marlene by surprise.

“Just leave me alone,” says Mary.

She adjusts the strap on her bag and walks out without even looking at Marlene again.

* * *

The charms classroom is a wood-paneled and multi-tiered room in the centre of which is Professor Flitwick, standing on a pile of books to address his class— which is still settling down.

Marlene comes tearing in and flings herself and her stuff into a desk just as the bell rings.

“Cutting it a bit close, Miss McKinnon!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

“Do try and manage your time a bit better, next time.”

“Yes sir. Sorry.”

Flitwick gives her a reproving look and continues. “Moving on, today we'll be covering the Confundus charm, which is an extremely complex spell that will doubtless make an appearance on your OWLs. Now the Confundus charm is part of a branch of charms that alter the state of the mind. Who can tell me what these are called?”

“Why don't you ask McKinnon, seeing as she knows all about it?” Calls James.

Flitwick frowns, not understanding. “Miss McKinnon?”

“Uh... bewitchments.” Marlene mumbles.

“Quite right. Now casting any of these on another person is considered a serious breach of consent, and for the most part should only be done in case of emergency. The Confundus charm, however, is useful to know precisely for that reason. Does anyone want to take a guess as to why?”

“Because Confunding isn't permanent?” Offers Peter Pettigrew.

“Partly, yes. But it's generally a good way to disable an aggressor in a safe, non-lethal manner. They'll usually stop what they're doing and return to a blank, childlike state. Later, they may have a confused idea about what happened to them.”

Cresswell raises his hand. “Sir? Is it possible a confundus charm could last a while? Like days, or weeks maybe?”

“Perhaps if it was an exceptionally powerful charm it could last over a day but no, one would have to keep reapplying it in order to keep the effect going. A lot of work, as you can see.”

Cresswell thinks about it.

“Today we're going to be practising the Confundus charm,” continues Flitwick. “Which you should already have an idea of how to do, but I will also be teaching you the counter charm so that I do not send you off to your next class a bunch of witless fools. This is 'Tempero' and the wand movement is like so.”

He takes out his wand and demonstrates.

“Choose a partner and start practising. Come to me if you have questions. Remember, it is good form to ask your partner's permission before you cast any spells on them, especially ones that alter the mind.”

The students pair off, leaving both Lily and Marlene partnerless. Flitwick approaches them.

“Miss McKinnon, Miss Evans, why don't the two of you work together today?”

“Great,” says Marlene.

She picks up her bag and heads to where Lily is sitting. Lily gives her a small smile. Marlene does not return it.

“Hey, Marlene, how've you been?” Asks Lily awkwardly.

“Absolute rubbish, actually, thanks for asking.” Says Marlene.

Lily retreats, uncomfortable. “Right, sorry. Uh, shall we...”

“What, do the assignment?” Marlene says. “Confund me if you like, might be nice to not know what the fuck is happening for a few minutes.”

Lily frowns at her concernedly. “Marlene, are you alright? I've been worried, you've been avoiding me for weeks.”

“Maybe I just didn't want to hear whatever preachy thing you were going to tell me,” says Marlene nastily.

Lily looks hurt. “That's hardly fair.”

Marlene scoffs. “No, it's not. But life isn't fair, Lily, it's not all sunshine and rainbows and friendship.”

“Christ, sorry for caring about how you were doing.” Mutters Lily.

Marlene shrugs. “I don't need you to care, do I? I don't need anything except to stop feeling so fucking awful all the time so go on, confund me already.”

Now Lily is looking at her in alarm. “Marlene, calm down. You're not in any right state—"

“Stop being so... bloody sympathetic.” Snaps Marlene. “It's only going to get you hurt. Like with Snape, for instance.”

“What's Sev got to do with it?”

“He... you know what, I don't want to talk about it. Just do the fucking spell already. Confund me, go on.”

“No, I really don't think I should.” Says Lily firmly.

Marlene gets to her feet. When she speaks, it's a near-yell, and the whole class turns to look.

“ _Then what are you bloody good for_ , then, Lily? Eh? What are you good for?”

“Miss McKinnon!”

She storms out, forgetting her bag. Lily is left, shellshocked, her eyes stinging. Marlene has never spoken to her like that, not ever. Lily doesn’t even think she’s ever heard her raise her voice.

“That girl is a disaster if I ever saw one,” she hears Potter comment.

“Leave it out, Potter.” Lily snarls.

“She yells at you in front of the entire class and you're defending her? I really don't get you, Evans.”

“Good,” says Lily.

He's thrown by her answer, and has nothing more to add.

Lily stares at Marlene’s vacant seat, then rests her head on her hands in despair, red hair falling around her onto the desk and obscuring her face. She doesn’t even hear Flitwick coming up behind her.

“Miss Evans, are you quite alright?”

He peers up at her with kindness and sympathy.

She looks at him, wiping at her eyes. “Oh, yeah, sorry professor Flitwick, I'm alright, I just—"

He pats her elbow. “Why don't you take the rest of the class off? Performing complex magic while upset is never advisable, and you can always stop by my office and go over the spells later if you like.”

She looks at him gratefully.

“Thanks, Professor, I— I think I'll do that.”

Lily stands, taking her bag- and after a moment's hesitation, Marlene's as well— and departs the room, ignoring all the eyes on her. She walks blindly down the hallway, then turns a corner and sits down in a little spiral staircase. She sets the two bags down, looks at them, and suddenly starts to cry, overwhelmed by it all.

After a minute, she grabs papers out of Marlene's bag and starts throwing them down the stairwell.

“Stupid Marlene...” She mutters as she throws papers, quills.  “Stupid Sev... stupid Cresswell... stupid Potter... stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Lily.”

She looks at the disaster she's caused and gets up, picks them all up and tries to reorganise them into a messy pile.

“Oh, what am I doing, honestly...”

She shakes her head, and stuffs it all back into Marlene's bag. Feeling something inside, she stops and pulls it out. A pack of cigarettes.

Lily puts one between her lips and lights it with her wand. Exhaling a plume of smoke, she leans back against the curved stone wall and closes her eyes.

* * *

“I swear, one wrong word out of that little prick, one wrong word, and I'm going to break his face. He just needs to give me a reason.” Says Cresswell, savagely scraping crust out of a cauldron.

They’re serving detention again, and everyone is hard at work scrubbing out cauldrons. The Slytherins and Gryffindors are sitting on opposite ends of the classroom, as far away from each other as they can get.

Cresswell glares over at Snape,  who is talking animatedly to his friends about something and causing them to laugh.

“You'll hear no complaints from us,” says James.

“Yeah, it might even break up the monotony a bit.” Agrees Sirius. “I don't understand why Filch has us scrubbing these out by hand when a Scouring charm would do the trick just fine. I mean, what's the point?”

“Sadism?” Offers James.

“Alright, you may be on to something. Look, Cresswell, if you want to go over there and beat Snivellus up, by all means, but it may end badly for us. I mean, technically we're not outnumbered, but...”

Sirius tilts his head meaningfully at Mary, who has not listened to a word. She's scrubbing dutifully, with great focus.

Cresswell sighs.

On the Slytherin side of things, the mood is considerably lighter.

“No, I've no idea either.” Avery is saying. “But Shea and Selwyn are always running off to do things on their own, aren't they? And by things, I mean he's probably shagging her brains out, isn't he?”

Avery laughs easily.

“I'd say lucky him, but the minute Selwyn opens her mouth she's suddenly repellent. Maybe if I could cover it, or shut it with spellotape... why do I get the feeling she'd be into that?”

They all laugh this time.

Mulciber looks across the room, then stands up and picks up his cauldron by the handle.

“Where're you going with that?” Asks Rosier.

Mulciber doesn't answer, and crosses the room to where the Gryffindors sit. They stop talking at his approach, and he sets the cauldron down in front of Mary.

“Mary, I don't feel like finishing this one.” He says. “Clean it for me.”

There's a beat as the three Gryffindor boys stare at him, shocked, and then Mary pulls the cauldron towards her and starts scrubbing it. Satisfied, Mulciber goes back to his friends.

“Uh, Mary, what are you doing?” Says Cresswell.

“Yeah, let him do his own work.” Says Sirius.

He tries to take the cauldron from her, but she clings stubbornly to it.

“Let go.”

“Fine, I'll let go.”

He does, and she resumes her cleaning. They all stare at her.

“Cresswell, Sirius, let's go get some more Skower's.” Says James meaningfully.

All three boys head to a nearby desk where a box of cleaning supplies marked 'Miss Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover' sits.

“Alright, something is really, really wrong with MacDonald.” James says.

Cresswell looks over at her worriedly. “I... I know. I have no idea what it is, ever since the match she's been like this... only Lily says it started before that, right after the protest.”

“I bet you everything I own that Mulciber's got something to do with it,” says Sirius darkly.

“What's Evans got to say about it?” Asks James.

Sirius looks at him. “Evans?”

“They're mates, right? She's not stupid, she's got to know something's wrong. She could help.”

Cresswell sighs. “Yeah, she knows, only I... sort of blew up at her this morning.”

 “Why'd you do that?” Says James, confused.

“Not a good day for Evans, is it?” Remarks Sirius.

“She wouldn't admit Snape might have something to do with it,” says Cresswell. “Or that he could be one of them Death Eaters.”

James shrugs. “Well, that's Evans for you. You really think Snape could have done something?”

“As far as I'm concerned, they're all guilty by association.” Snaps Cresswell.

James nods. “Fair enough. Alright, we've got to do something about this. On our own, I s'pose, since Mary's actual mates are off in their own bloody worlds at the moment.”

But Cresswell is looking torn. “I don't know. Lily said we should tell a teacher, and I'm starting to think she might be right. Whatever's got into Mary, it can't be natural.I thought she might've been confunded, but when I tried the counter-charm in class nothing happened. I think she might've been, I dunno, cursed or something.”

“Tell a teacher?” Says Sirius, as though the notion is foreign to him. “Who should we tell? McGonagall? Dumbledore?

“Either one? Both of them?” Says Cresswell helplessly. “I just- I just want her to be alright again.”

James and Sirius look at him sympathetically.

“Right then. We'll go after detention, shall we?”

James claps his hand to his forehead. “Er... I don't think we can tonight. We've got.. we've got something we really need to do.”

“What, more important than this? Than Mary?”

James winces. “Not more important, but just.. impossible to reschedule.”

Cresswell shrugs moodily. “Fine. I don't need either of you with me. I'll take her myself.”

“Sorry, Cresswell, it's just—” Begins Sirius, but Cresswell interrupts.

“Yeah, yeah, save it.”

He takes a scoop of Skower's and returns to Mary, offering her some. James and Sirius watch them.

“I feel like such a prat,” says James.

Sirius grimaces. “You and me both, but there's not much we can do about it, is there.”

James sighs.

* * *

Remus and Lily are patrolling the seventh floor together. Remus has his wand tip lit and is holding it aloft, lighting the way down the corridor.

Lily is lost in her own thoughts, still a little subdued.

“Everything alright, Lily?” Says Remus. “You've been quiet.”

“Yeah... I'm sorry, Remus. I've just been having a bad day, that's all.”

He nods understandingly. “Well let me know if there's anything I can do about it. Even if it's just to listen.”

She regards him, touched by his kindness.

“Oh, thanks, Remus.” She says. “I've never understood why you're friends with Potter and Black. You're much too nice for the likes of them.”

He grins shyly. “Oh, well, if you were me you'd understand perfectly. They're the best friends I've ever had and and ever will have. They're more than I deserve.”

“Why on earth would you say that?” Says Lily, surprised.

“Nevermind, it... it doesn't matter.” Says Remus hastily. “Is it Marlene that's upset you? She was a bit hostile in Charms this morning.”

“Yeah, but it's also Mary, and Sev, and Dirk Cresswell, and even your stupid Potter.”

He frowns. “I'm afraid I don't see the connection.”

Lily sighs. “It's just, I've got to wondering... why do any of my friends like me? _Do_ they even like me? Am I just the odd one out, weird Lily who always worries about things and is never any fun— oh, I don't know, Remus. Hogwarts is an awfully lonely place when none of your friends will talk to you.”

Remus, alarmed by her outpouring, stops them and takes her hands.

“Lily, you mustn't think like that for a second.” He says seriously. “Your friends love you. Everybody does.”

She looks at him doubtfully. “Do they?”

“Yes, who couldn't? You're the best person I know, Lily. You're kind to everyone, even if they don't deserve it. And your friends love you, it's just...” He pauses, thoughtful.  “It's something I learnt a long time ago. Everyone's got something going on, don't they? Everyone's got circumstances you might not know about. Just because someone's acting strangely around you, it doesn't necessarily mean it’s got anything to do with you.”

“But everyone, Remus? _Everyone_?”

“Who's everyone, then? Let's go through the list.”

“Marlene, obviously.” She says.

“Well, that's easy.” Says Remus. “She's been kicked off the team and has been having a hard time of it. Everyone knows that. She's probably just lashing out.”

“Alright, Sev then.”

Remus chooses his words carefully. “Well... I don't really know him, but it seems to me like he's got a fair bit going on at the moment too. I know you don't want to hear it, Lily, but maybe that is one friendship you ought to reconsider...”

“You're right, I didn't want to hear it.” She says briskly. “Alright, next up— Potter.”

“What's James done exactly? Other than be a prat as usual, I mean. He's not your friend, anyway, so it doesn't count.”

“Alright, fair enough. Well, Cresswell then.”

“Worried sick about Mary,” says Remus. “He's fancied her since we were in second or third year, I don't remember...”

Lily frowns. “Yeah... and what about Mary?”

Remus looks at her, having no answer.

“Nobody knows, do they?”

* * *

“This isn't the way to the common room,” Mary says.

Cresswell jumps at the sound of her voice; they had been walking in absolute silence down the second floor corridor.

“Uh, no, it isn't.” He replies. “We're not going to the common room yet.”

“What? Why not?”

“We just... we have to see McGonagall first, that's all.” He says vaguely.

She sighs, accepting it. “Alright, then.”

He looks at her worriedly, then takes her hand and they keep walking.

* * *

Peter paces back and forth nervously in front of a large mirror, waiting.

Finally, Sirius and James materialise out of nowhere, having pulled the invisibility cloak off themselves. Peter jumps.

“Blimey, you gave me a fright.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Says Sirius. “Snape followed us up two floors, so we had to break out the cloak and a few evasive maneuvers to shake him off. With any luck he thinks we're heading to the seventh floor to meet up with Remus, though I can't believe he actually fell for that one twice.”

“Did you get everything ready like I asked?” Says James.

Peter nods. “What do you reckon you'll be? I shouldn't like to be a rabbit, I saw one on the lawn a few weeks ago and it was all cut up like someone'd taken a bloody great knife to it, ugh.”

Sirius looks disgusted. “What? That's mental.”

“Enough about Peter's rabbit, lets head in.” Says James impatiently, and he places a hand on the mirror. “ _Ostende_.”

The surface of the mirror glows and his hand passes through it. James enters the secret passage, with Sirius and Peter behind him.

Inside, is a dark, fairly spacious room with a small crawlspace in the corner leading off into further darkness. Three luminous chalk circles have been drawn on the wooden floor, and a cauldron sits bubbling between the circles.

“Alright, go on then.” Says James.

As they all step into their circles, Sirius conjures a small orb of light and directs it to hover on the ceiling directly above them.

James pulls his wand out and points it forward at the cauldron. The others follow suit.

“ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_.” Says James.

“ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_.” They say together. “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_.”

The water in the cauldron glows bright white.

James looks around at them. “Alright, on three— one, two, three.”

As one they reach into their mouths and pry free the mandrake leaves.

“Ugh, I think there's still a bit of my tea stuck on mine, hang on.”

Peter wipes the remnant off, and they all throw the leaves forward. Slowly, carefully, the leaves glide down into the cauldron, and the liquid turns bright crimson.

“Looks like blood, doesn't it.” Says Peter.

“That's the point, Peter. Now focus.”

They each levitate a little bottle. The bottles dip themselves into the cauldron and return to the owners, dripping a trail of what does look awfully like blood on the floor as they go.

James raises his bottle to them. “Well, here goes. Cheers.”

They all drink the potion in one gulp, and toss the bottles aside.

They chant, voices rising to a shout: “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus! Amato Animo Animato Animagus_!”

A silent, blinding white light suffuses the room—

* * *

Remus is pleased to see that Lily looks a great deal happier now. They're both laughing about something, though Lily is laughing much harder.

“Oh don't laugh, it’s true.” He says.

“You're telling me _you_ wish you were like Black?” Lily says, green eyes glittering with mirth.

Remus feels his face grow hot. “I said _sometimes_ I wish. Can you blame me? He's so sure of himself, always doing whatever he wants, damn the consequences, and girls like him...”

“What are you on about? Girls love you, Remus. Honest.”

“Oh, yeah, 'course they do.” Remus looks away from her.

“Come on, what's not to like?” Insists Lily. “You're quiet, kind, sensitive— girls love that. We only pretend to like the Siriuses of the world until we get a little older and wiser and realise it's the Remuses we've been looking for all along. Trust me, I'm a girl, I know these things. I understand people.”

Remus grins, embarrassed at the praise but pleased all the same.

They round the corner and walk right into Severus Snape, who is striding determinedly with his wand out in their direction.

“Sev?” Says Lily in confusion. “What on earth are you doing up here?”

He stops in his tracks and stares at her and then at Remus, eyes narrowing in dislike..

“I'm just... walking, that's all. What are you doing here, with _him_?”

The last word is filled with hate and suspicion.

“Patrolling, remember?” Lily says, rolling her eyes. “It's part of our duties, you know, as prefects? I don't understand why you're up here, it's past curfew and this is nowhere near your common room.”

“We really ought to report you,” says Remus, glaring. Why on earth is he up here, when things were going so well with Lily? He knows Snape wouldn’t dare attack him in front of her, but he must be up to something.

“Just try it, shabby.” Snape hisses.

“Severus, _don't_ talk to him like that.” Lily says angrily.

He rounds on her. “Why are you defending him? You know he's one of them, you said it yourself.”

“Oh, one of them, am I?” Remus says, looking at Lily.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, honestly, he doesn't mean anything by it. Severus, just go back to your common room. We won't report you, but you ought to leave, _now_. You're being really horrible and I don't know what's got into you.”

_He’s always horrible_ , Remus thinks bitterly.

“Got into me?” Snape says incredulously. “Here you are, walking around and having a laugh with the enemy, and I'm the one that's in the wrong.”

Remus scoffs. “I'm not the enemy, and besides, you're the one who's skulking around after hours.”

Snape seems to seize upon this thought. “Oh, but I'm not the only one, am I? Where's your friends, then, eh, Lupin? They're around here somewhere, aren't they?”

Remus stares at him. “What are you talking about? You're barking.”

“Oh come on, Sev, we haven't seen Potter or any of the others all night.” Says Lily. “I think you're being a bit ridiculous. I was only patrolling with him, and besides you've no right to tell me who I can or can't be friends with. Especially seeing as you clearly don't care what I think about _your_ friends.”

He closes his mouth at that, though he's still glaring at Remus.

Lily sighs. “Look, Remus, sorry to ask but could you finish doing rounds on your own? I think I should walk Sev back to his common room.”

Remus isn't thrilled by the idea, but he relents. “Yeah, go on then. I'll be alright by myself.”

“Thanks, Remus. I'm really sorry.”

She grabs a mutinous Severus by the elbow and marches them away. Remus watches her go a little regretfully, then sighs and heads the other way down the corridor.

No sooner have they disappeared than Sirius materialises in front of him, grinning widely.

“Boo,” he says.

“Bloody hell, Sirius, you scared me. Where's—"

His question is answered as James and Peter come around the corner, blazing with excitement and triumph.

“There he is, just the man we wanted to see!” Says James.

Remus looks at them bemusedly. “What's going on?"

“Not here. We'll show you, come on.” Peter says, beckoning.

* * *

Mary stares down at her lap, silent.

“You're saying you think she's been cursed?” Says Professor McGonagall. “This is an extremely serious allegation, Mr. Cresswell.”

Cresswell looks anxiously at Dumbledore. “I know it is. But... but look at her. Something's just not right. Please—”

Dumbledore looks at him gravely. “All of Mary's professors have reported decreased performance in her classes. Rest assured, we intend to take the matter seriously.

Professor Richter rounds the desk and takes a close look at Mary.

“Mary, how are you feeling?” He says.

Mary looks up at him nervously. “I... I don't know. I'm not sure what's going on.”

“That's alright,” Richter says gently. “Don't worry, you aren't in any trouble. Now, I want you to think carefully about the past month, alright? Can you think of anything strange that's happened, anyone who's tried to hurt you or anything like that.”

Mary struggles, opens her mouth, closes it. “No, I... I can't remember, I'm... I'm sorry.”

Richter sighs. “It's alright. It's not your fault. If anything occurs to you, don't be afraid to speak up.”

She nods.

“Mr. Cresswell, what can you tell us about this?” McGonagall says. Dirk has never seen her look so worried.

“Well, ever since the protest there's been a couple of Slytherins who haven't stopped giving her a hard time. Rosier, and Mulciber. There's others, too, but it's mainly those two.”

The professors all look at each other.

“Why didn't anyone _say_ anything?”

“That's hardly the issue, Minerva.” Says Richter.

“No, but if we'd known—"

“We still might not have realised the extent of it,” says Dumbledore. “Children can be cruel, teenagers even more so. We all learn to ignore it, after a while. Please continue, Mr. Cresswell.”

Dirk nods shakily. “Right. Well she was jumpy before, that's what Lily says, but things didn't get really bad until the match. Lily says Mary just disappeared from the stands and didn't return until late that night, and she was... different. Like something had happened.”

Richter leans forward. “Different? How so?”

“Well, like this, I suppose? She's just... not all the way there. She's not herself. The old Mary would never have taken an insult lying down, would she, but tonight in detention— well, it doesn't matter, the point is—"

“What happened in detention?” Says McGonagall sharply.

“Well, Filch had us scrubbing out some cauldrons by hand, right? So Mulciber walks over, drops his cauldron in front of Mary and tells her to clean it. And she just does it, without a word.”

The professors look at each other again, this time with alarm.

Finally, Richter speaks.

“When I still taught at Durmstrang, I would see this sort of thing all the time. This is what happens when you teach children dark magic without making sure they understand the consequences.”

“What are you on about? What dark magic?” Cresswell says in alarm.

“Yes, Gerhard, do enlighten us.”

“I may be mistaken,” says Richter. “But it looks to me as if Miss MacDonald has been Imperiused.”

“Imperiused?” Repeats McGonagall faintly. “That's ridiculous, there's no way any of the students—”

Richter’s moustache bristles. “Like I said, I've seen it before. It's part of the reason I left Durmstrang, because I alone wished to cut the Dark Arts from the curriculum.”

“And Hogwarts is the better for it.” Says Dumbledore. He looks at Mary, very carefully. “Miss MacDonald will be kept in the hospital wing under observation, with wards around her that will alert Madam Pomfrey instantly if they are intruded upon. Mr. Cresswell, you will need to write me a list of approved visitors. Keep it short, and make sure everyone can be trusted.”

Dirk nods, mutely.

“For now, I ask that you do not tell anyone anything we have discussed here tonight. We will be investigating this matter to the fullest degree. Rest assured, Mr. Cresswell, this will be dealt with.”

McGonagall’s hand has flown to her forehead, as if she might faint. “Albus, if it is the Imperius curse the Aurors might have to be involved…”

“We don't know exactly what's going on yet, Minerva. Go wake up Slughorn and bring him to my office to discuss his students.”

She nods and leaves the room, looking shaken.

“As for you, Mr. Cresswell, you should be proud of yourself. I know this can't have been easy, but you've proven yourself a good friend to Mary, and a good man. Tell your classmates that the rest of their detentions for the term are cancelled.”

“Yes, sir. Thanks. Will she—"

Dumbledore smiles at him, kindly. “Mary will be alright, now. You can come and visit her in the hospital wing in the morning if you like.”

Cresswell nods and gets to his feet.

“Don't worry, Mary. I'll see you tomorrow.” He says. He kisses the top of her head, and looks up to see Dumbledore regarding him sadly.

“Good night, Mr. Cresswell.”

* * *

Sirius, James, and Peter stand before Remus, grinning in anticipation.

“Alright, what's this all about?” Remus says, looking around. They’ve led him into an empty classroom. Outside the window, he sees the moon— barely a sliver in the night sky.

His friends look at each other, then— they transform.

 First Peter, into a small brown rat. Then Sirius, a handsome black dog wagging its tail furiously. And finally, James, a regal stag.

Remus is floored, at a loss for words. “You... you did it. You did it! I can’t believe— but—” He stammers.

Sirius runs up to him and pushes his nose affectionately against his leg. Remus strokes his shiny fur, laughing incredulously.

“You mad, brilliant bastards,” he says feverishly as they transform back.

“I still don't see why I'm a rat while you two are big animals. Hardly seems fair.”

“Are you joking?” James says. “Do you realise the places you could go without anyone noticing you're there? I think you got the better deal, mate.”

Peter looks cheered. “Yeah, you're right!”

“It'll come in handy for pressing that knot on the willow, won't it?” says Sirius thoughtfully. “I'm always terrified I'm going to get clobbered while I'm doing it.”

Remus is gripped by sudden uncertainty. “I just— how do we know I won't just attack you anyway?”

“Everything we've read about werewolves says they don't attack other animals,” James says. “I s'pose you might try and have a nibble off of me but if it comes to that, Sirius will protect me, won't you Sirius.”

“Never doubt it,” Sirius says.

James grins. “So there you have it, then. Next full moon, Remus, all the Marauders will be running around on four legs. Not so different anymore, are you?”

Genuinely touched, Remus thinks he might cry of happiness. “I still can't believe this, I mean... thank you.” It seems to be the only thing he can say, but James waves him off.

“Nah mate, it's what friends are for. I'd do anything for you lot. And I know you'd do anything for me. That's what makes us the Marauders.”

Remus feels as though his heart may just burst.

“I s'pose we'll all need nicknames, then, won't we? Just to be fair. Peter, you can be Wormtail.”

“Don't I get a say?”

Sirius ignores him, thinking. “I'll be... Snuffles.”

“Padfoot. Less stupid.” Says James.

“Fine. What about you?”

James considers it. “I think... Prongs. Shall we make it official?”

He pulls out the map, and grabs a quill and ink from a nearby desk. Remus watches him write above the title, in flawless script:

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present..._

He embellishes it a little, then steps back to admire his handiwork.

“Looks good, doesn't it. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.”

Sirius nods. “Sounds good, too.”

They look at each other, triumphant.

Remus taps the map with his wand.

“Mischief managed,” he says.

* * *

“You don't have to walk me all the way there, Lily, honestly.” Sev says.

She smiles at him, shivering a little. It’s quite a bit cooler down in the dungeons. “No, but I want to. I'm glad we've been able to talk, it seems like we hardly do these days.”

“Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry I've been so distracted and everything, there's just a lot going on.”

“You're my best friend, Sev.” Lily says. “Maybe my only friend at the moment. Whatever's going on, whatever's wrong— I want you to know I'm on your side.”

He looks at her, unsure what to say.

“How precious,” says Avery, looming suddenly out of the darkness.

He and Mulciber are leaning against the wall in front of the common room entrance.

Lily stiffens at the sight of them. “Bollocks. Suppose that's my cue to leave.”

“Hang on a second Evans,” drawls Avery. “A friend of mine told me an interesting rumour about you the other day.”

“Oh yeah, and what's that then?” Lily says coolly, crossing her arms.

“He said you're still a virgin.”

Lily turns red, completely thrown. “I'm— what?”

Avery and Mulciber laugh at her, and she glares.

“You're repulsive.”

“Is it true?”

“Avery, shut up.” Says Severus, drawing everyone’s attention.

“But since you and Severus are such mates,” says Avery slyly. “I'd be only too happy to help you out with that little problem. As a personal favour. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt... much.”

Avery and Mulciber laugh again. Severus wishes he could strangle Avery right then and there.

“Don't make me hex you,” Lily snaps.

“Ooh, scary. I was only joking, Evans, no need to get so worked up about it.”

“Will you just leave it, Avery?” Says Severus angrily.

Avery looks like he doesn't want to, but Mulciber tilts his head significantly and he stops.

“Fine then,” he says curtly. “You coming inside?”

Severus nods, casting Lily an apologetic look. She says nothing to him, holds her head up high.

“Birthright,” says Mulciber to the brick wall, and the door opens. The three boys enter into the common room, and the door swings shut behind them.

Severus stares hatefully at Avery, who notices.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sev says quickly.

“You look like you want to curse my bollocks off. Calm down, Snape, I was only having a laugh.” He grins and heads for the dormitory. Sev’s palms curl into fists at his sides.

“What a—"

Mulciber fixes him with a glare and the words die in Sev's throat.

“A what, Severus? Avery's a pureblood wizard, of far superior parentage than you, might I add. And what's Lily Evans? Only a mudblood. So, it _was_ just a laugh. There's nothing more to it. Don't test my patience.”

Without another word, he leaves. Severus stands there, staring after him.

* * *

Lily, still fuming, makes her way across the Entrance Hall— Cresswell is waiting by the hourglasses. He spots her and hurries to her side.

“Lily!”

She turns. “Oh. Hi, Dirk.”

“Mary's in the hospital wing.”

Her eyes go wide with panic, all her anger forgotten. “What? Why? What's happened?”

“No, nothing's happened.” He says. “It's just, well, I did what you said and went to McGonagall and Dumbledore about it. They're keeping her under observation, that's all.”

Lily relaxes. Oh. Oh, that's good, then. Do they have any idea what's happened?”

He hesitates a little, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Uh, no... no, we're not sure yet. Well, they think it's some sort of curse, only they don’t know what... uh, well, anyway... I was going to visit her tomorrow if you want to come with me.”

She softens, smiling at him. “Alright. Thanks, Dirk.”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly. He grins, too— an apology.

She hugs him, tightly.

* * *

The professors watch as Madam Pomfrey helps Mary into a bed, handing her a potion and murmuring something in her ear.

Dumbledore heaves a sigh.

“I had really hoped, despite everything, that the war would not reach Hogwarts. But it seems to have found a foothold all the same.”

“I just don't understand how students could have learned such magic,” says McGonagall fretfully. “Children, Albus.”

“Most children have parents, do they not?” Richter says.

“Well I don't know,” says Slughorn nervously. “I think we're all getting a little ahead of ourselves.”

McGonagall looks at him, nostrils flaring. “Are we, Horace? It's students from your house, after all… Albus, you don't think they're...”

“Involved with Voldemort?” Dumbledore says neutrally.

They all flinch at the sound of the name.

“At the very least, they must have sympathies.” Says McGonagall. “We all saw what happened at the protest. We all read the Prophet this morning. How could we have let such hatred fester...”

“It's not our fault if the children of supremacists and terrorists turn out that way themselves,” says Richter.

“No, but they're still children. I can't fathom this, it's beyond comprehension.”

“The nature of war forces children to grow up far sooner than they should,” Dumbledore says.

He shares a glance with Richter, loaded with meaning that only the two of them understand.

Slughorn peers over at Madam Pomfrey, who nods. “Yes, well, it looks like she's asleep now— shall we?”

They approach Mary's bed and raise their wands, silently pulling currents of magical energy out of the air to form a shimmering mesh curtain around her bed. The mesh glows brightly, then fades, leaving only a glowing ring on the floor.

Dumbledore turns to Madam Pomfrey. “Poppy, tomorrow Dirk Cresswell will bring by a list of approved students. You must alter the charm to let them through, although I encourage you to question every one of them closely before doing so. We can never be too careful.”

“Yes, of course.”

“If anyone tries to breach it, either physically or magically, the charm will alert you. And it will also tell us _who_ it is that has disturbed the wards.”

Madam Pomfrey nods.

“All we can do now is keep an eye on the situation, and hope it doesn't escalate. This has been a long night. I suggest we all try to get some rest.”

He casts a last glance at Mary's sleeping form before leaving.


	6. Mishaps, Mudbloods and Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders plan their first full moon together, but things go awry when Severus gets involved. Lily takes matters into her own hands, and Mary is safe in the hospital wing... but Mulciber hasn't given up yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the "prank episode" you may have all been waiting for. It's fun to rewrite the scenes that appear in the books but going more in-depth with them and giving them some context.

The grounds are covered in white. Snow has blanketed everything, and is still falling thickly— between the trees, the castle is just barely visible in the distance. The forest is quiet, serene and peaceful...

Something rustles a low hanging tree branch, causing a small shower of snow.

It is a handsome red deer, a stag with impressive antlers, eyes alive with intelligence beyond that of a normal deer. He looks around, taking in his surroundings.

After a moment, he takes off through the forest, startling some birds, dodging trees with ease as he heads down an embankment.

He leaps easily over a frozen rivulet, landing in a soft spray of powdered snow. He continues until he reaches a little clearing.

In the clearing is a small herd of unicorns, almost blending in with the snow. There’s young, too, their coats a brilliant gold. They're drinking from a partially frozen river.

The stag approaches them carefully.

One of the unicorns looks up and straight at the stag. They hold each other's gaze for a moment, then the unicorn returns to drinking. The stag regards them, then leaps over the brook and continues on its way.

It reaches the edge of the forest, still running at full tilt. Once out of the trees, it tears past Hagrid's hut, bounding up the hill with amazing agility.

Just before the entrance to the covered bridge, the deer launches itself forward and transforms mid-air into James Potter.

James, breathing hard, leans against a stone pillar for support. He grins, and straightens up, pulling his jacket more tightly around himself as he heads back across the bridge.

* * *

Mary is sitting up in her bed, feeling a great deal more herself than she has for a while, smiling a little as Cresswell talks to her.

There's a small pile of cards, flowers and sweets on the table next to her bed.

Cresswell is seated on the chair by her side, showing her something in a hefty textbook. He comes to visit her a lot, and she’s grateful. He keeps her from being alone with her thoughts for too long.

“Yeah, and that's what they did to them. Pretty gruesome, eh?”

Mary looks down at the page, grimaces at the woodblock prints depicting gruesome murders the goblins committed against wizards during their uprising. Most of them involved pickaxes in some way. “It's really horrible... D'you know, I think I've learnt more with you in a couple of weeks than I have with Binns in five years.”

“I think history of magic's sort of interesting actually,” says Cresswell. “It's only Binns that makes it seem dead boring. I mean, literally, right?”

She chuckles a little.

“Yeah, the Goblin rebellions were actually really fascinating if you look into it. I mean, you've got this whole species that's just as intelligent as humans, arguably more intelligent, and yet they were considered lesser. Still are, to some extent.”

“Didn't know you cared so much about Goblin rights, Cresswell.” Says Mary, surprised.

He shrugs, “And why shouldn't I? They're the same as any of us, just a bit shorter's all. I don't understand why they're not treated like it. Wizards are a bit odd, aren't they.”

“Yeah, it's not as if Muggles are ever racist.” Mary says pointedly, and he looks chagrined.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I s'pose you're right about that, aren't you. Sorry.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well. Tell me more about the Goblins.”

“Well... their language is really strange but I like it, I've picked up a few words and all.”

Mary looks at him, awestruck. “You've been learning the Goblin language?”

“Gobbledegook,” says Cresswell, not without a hint of pride. “Yeah. My dad's always said I've got a way with languages, I just like them is all.”

“Well go on, say a few words then.” She prompts him, eager.

He turns a little pink. “Oh, well, alright, though you can't blame me if my pronunciation is shoddy. Let's see, _Kavktta Vvargden_ — that means 'die wizards' so it's bound to come in handy. Oh, there's _Bladvak_ , that means a sort of pickaxe, like the ones they were using in the pictures.”

“Right,” Mary says with a shudder, as Lily enters the hospital wing.

“Morning all,” she says brightly. “Seen the snow?”

“Yeah, its mad out there,” says Cresswell.

“Morning, Lily. Dirk was just telling me how he's learnt the goblin language.”

“What? I didn't know about this.”

Cresswell scratches his head, embarrassed. “Well I haven't learnt the whole thing, have I, only a bit.

“A lot more than me,” says Mary proudly.

“Yeah, and me.”

Lily crosses the magical line and sits down in the other chair next to Mary's bed.

“How are you doing this morning, Mary?”

“Oh, honestly.” Mary says. “I'm fine, just like I was yesterday.

Lily bites her lip. “Listen, I know what you said but Marlene practically tied herself to my leg on the way down here begging me to ask you again, so—"

Mary immediately withdraws, looks away. “No, I... I don't want to see her. Just leave it.”

“I know,” says Lily, looking regretful. “And I'm sorry to ask. It's whatever you want, Mary. I just promised her I'd ask you again.”

“Well, you have now, haven't you?”

“Yeah, I just... you've got to start talking to her again sometime, haven't you? You've been best friends for five years, Mary, you can't just let that go.”

Mary shrugs listlessly. “I don't want to talk about that.”

“Well, fine, please yourself then.” Lily says, giving up.

Mary searches for a change of subject. “What classes have you got today?”

“Charms, then defence...” Says Cresswell.

“We did have herbology, but it got cancelled because of the snow. So we've got a study period instead. Though there's not much to study on the last week of term.”

“Oh, right.” Mary says with a frown. Time seems to have gone by so quickly; it feels like just yesterday she was duelling Rosier in the courtyard.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Says Lily suddenly. “Slughorn's throwing his Christmas party tonight and he said you're both welcome if you want to go.”

Cresswell looks sceptical. “He said that, did he?”

“Alright, well I had to convince him to let me bring two dates instead of one,” Lily admits. “But it wasn't hard. That is, if you feel up to it, Mary. You'd be supervised the entire time.”

She and Cresswell exchange a glance.

“Better not, Lily.” Says Mary. “These potions they've got me on have me out like a light at eight or so.”

“Then I've no idea who to take! I don't want to go alone...”

“What about Marlene?” Asks Mary casually.

Lily looks away, uncomfortable. Well, we're not exactly on good terms at the moment, she only talks to me to ask about you, and besides that...

“What?”

“She's already going with, uh, someone else.”

Mary sits up. “Someone else? Who?”

* * *

Like the rest of the common room, the Slytherin boy's dormitory is dark and regal, Low hanging green silks dangle above the beds.

Corrin Shea is doing up his tie, looking irritated.

“I don't see why it has to be me.”

He turns to Nicola, who approaches to adjust his tie for him.

“Well, it can't be me, can it?” She says.

“Why not? It's you that wants her there, you take her.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, honestly Corrin, it makes no difference. It's just what we're writing on the stupid paper. We'll all be there together anyway.”

“It makes some difference, though.” Corrin grumbles. “It's me everyone's going to be talking about.”

“I thought you didn't care what people said about you,” Nicola points out. “Besides, you're a boy. At the end of the day you can just pass it off as some perverted little notion that got into your perverted little head.”

“Well thanks very much,” he says sarcastically.

“I didn't mean your head specifically, I meant all boys, obviously.”

At this moment Avery enters freshly showered, sees them and grins.

“Well well, if it isn't the terrible twins. Isn't it a little early to be paying conjugal visits? What's the matter, Selwyn, you just couldn't wait for it? Though, by all means, don't let me stop you. Bed's right there, go ahead, I'll just be making some notes...”

Nicola gives Shea a meaningful look.

“Alright, I'll give you that one.” He says grudgingly.

Severus, one bed over, stirs. In a most ungainly fashion, he pulls himself out of bed and stands in just his greying pants, rubbing his eyes blearily. He shuffles around for a second, grabbing a towel as all three Slytherins watch him.

Then he seems to spot Nicola; his eyes grow wide with horror and he scuttles from the room as fast as he can.

There's a moment of surprised silence and then Avery cackles with laughter. Even Nicola and Shea look amused.

“Well, maybe you're right.” Shea says.

“When aren't I. My point is, she's a pretty girl, people will be happy to take the simplest explanation- which is that you want to shag her. I mean, don't you?”

It seems to Corrin like a trick question with no real correct answer, so he does his best.

“Not... really? I mean, hypothetically, one would... I mean, no.”

Nicola rolls her eyes. Avery looks delighted.

“Yeah, alright.” She says. “I'll be in the common room when you've got yourself together.”

She leaves, and Avery laughs again while Shea grits his teeth in frustration.

* * *

Meanwhile in the Gryffindor dormitories, Remus is making his bed, tucking in the corners a little fastidiously.

James and Cresswell are absent, but Peter is in bed still and Sirius is puttering around getting dressed.

Once Remus is done, he goes to the window and looks out at the blizzard brewing outside. He tries to peer up into the sky but it's nearly impossible to see anything.

“Ready for tonight?” Says Sirius as he rummages through his drawers, pulling out things at random and tossing them aside.

“Now that you mention it, not really.” Remus admits.

Sirius barely hears him, preoccupied with whatever he's searching for. “Yeah, me too. It's going to be grand, I've been looking forward to it all week.”

Remus looks at him, a little irritated and put out by this unintentional brush-off.

“Well, I haven't. I'm kind of nervous about it, actually.”

Sirius stops and looks up at him in confusion. “Why on earth would you be nervous? What could possibly go wrong?”

“Oh, I don't know, how about everything?” Remus says. “And even if nothing does go wrong, I still don't exactly look forward to full moon.”

Sirius shrugs, and returns to his search.

“Well, fine, you don't need to get so touchy about it.”

“I'm not being touchy. You're just being obtuse.”

Sirius looks at him, incredulous. “ _Obtuse_? How am I being obtuse?”

Remus sighs. He doesn’t want conflict, not today. “Oh, I don't know, you just... nevermind.”

“No, I want to hear this, go on.” Says Sirius, waiting.

“Well it's easy for you and the others, isn't it?” Remus says. “You still get to keep your mind and everything. It's fun for you. I just... I lose everything, I lose control of everything that I am and become this mindless monster bent on destroying everything around it.”

Sirius laughs. “When you say it like that it sounds really cool, doesn't it.”

“Well, it's not _cool_ , Sirius. It's painful and it's awful.”

There's a slight edge to his voice. Sirius realises that Remus is for some reason offended and he relents a little.

“Look, I didn't mean anything by it, alright? Sorry if I... hurt your feelings or something.”

It's not a great apology, and Remus isn't totally impressed.

“Yeah, no problem.” He says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Sirius frowns, not really seeing what he's done wrong, but also apparently not particularly caring that much. He moves onto other things, quicker than Remus would like.

“I can't find my fucking sock, have you seen it?”

Remus sighs in annoyance, looks at the ground. A single dark grey sock is just sticking out from under his bed. The lone point of disorder in Remus's otherwise perfectly ordered world. Remus picks it up.

“This it?” He says, holding it out.

“Oh, yes, that's it. Thanks, you're the best.”

Sirius takes it with a grin, argument forgotten.

* * *

The ceiling of the Great Hall is a furious blizzard, so white they can barely see the rafters.  The Slytherins head towards their usual spot at the end of the table.

“You going to Sluggie's party tonight, Mulciber?” Avery says.

Mulciber’s lip curls. “No. I asked Slughorn about it on Monday and he made it quite clear neither I nor Evan are welcome.”

“My guess is it's got something to do with little bedridden Mary MacDonald.” Says Rosier.

“Well, obviously it is. No matter, Slughorn is an obsolete old fool and his parties are only breeding grounds for Mudbloods and blood traitors. We can make our own fun, can't we, boys?”

“Well I should like to go,” sniffs Wilkes.

“You're not going,” snaps Rosier.

Wilkes, intimidated by Rosier amends quickly. “Fine, fine, I'm not going. What about Shea and Selwyn, are they going?”

“Yeah, along with their newest toy.” Avery says.

At their uncomprehending looks, he nods towards a section of the Slytherin table further down. Shea and Selwyn are sitting there, talking with Marlene McKinnon. Severus stares at them, not understanding. What’s one of Lily’s goody-goody, holier-than-thou friends doing with _them_? He wonders, bitterly, if Lily is as critical of McKinnon’s friendship choices as she is of his own.

“Forget them.” Says Mulciber. “They're only pretenders, not worthy of our cause.”

“Yeah... I'd pretend anything to get between McKinnon's legs.”

“Nobody asked, Avery.” Snarls Rosier.

“Well, they didn't have to. I provide this service free of charge.”

There's a few seconds of silent stand-off, during which Severus gets the impression that the power dynamics of the group have changed ever so slightly. Half a year ago, Avery would never have spoken to Rosier in that way.

“Enough, both of you.” Says Mulciber. “As I was saying, tonight we'll have our own party, of sorts. Severus, are you in?

“What? Oh, yes, of course I'm in.”

“Right, well then the only person left to ask is the guest of honour.”

“The guest of honour? Who's that?” Asks Regulus.

“You'll find out,” says Mulciber mysteriously.

He shares a knowing glance with Rosier and the rest look around at each other excitedly, wondering who it could be. Could it be… Severus thinks, no, it _can’t_ be.

“You'll find out very soon. We've been planning this for quite some time.”

* * *

Richter stares at them all from behind his moustache.

“This is the last session we will have together before the holidays, so we must make it count. As you may be aware, things are currently far from stable in the wizarding world and for young wizards and witches such as yourself to learn how to defend yourselves is paramount. Today, the most fundamental spell in protecting yourself and others—"

He writes on the board, circles it twice:

PROTEGO

“Now if it were up to me, this would be the first spell a child learns when coming to this school. It is always important to be able to mount a strong, unbreakable defence at a moment's notice. But as it is, this spell is fairly difficult to cast and therefore is considered OWL level by your Ministry. I had it scheduled for after you returned to school, but given recent events I've decided to rearrange things.”

“Now, I need two students to come up here and demonstrate. How about you— yes, you—"

He points at Severus, who reluctantly heads to the front and stands glowering before the class.

“And... you, quiet boy.”

He signals Remus Lupin, who casts his friends an apprehensive look before standing up and walking to the front of the room. Severus smirks to himself.

“Alright, now you will try to jinx your classmate and he—"

Before he is even finished speaking, Severus has whipped his wand through the air and sent a curse flying at Lupin— who does not have time to block it. He is hoisted by his ankle into the air.

Richter rounds on Severus furiously. “What— What are you doing? Put him down immediately!”

Severus does, not before sending Black and Potter a smug look.

“He did that on purpose!” Black says, angrily.

Richter seems to agree, staring down at Severus with a beady eye. “Yes, clearly. You, stupid boy, what were you thinking? I didn't say you were allowed to start, and I didn't say you could use this spell. I give very clear instructions for a reason, so we can learn while in a safe, controlled classroom setting. What was that spell you used, stupid boy?”

Severus hesitates, not wanting to share his secret. “It's... uh...”

“Well?” Prompts Richter. “What spell was it?”

“It's... it's called levicorpus, sir.” Severus says reluctantly.

“Right. Well, do not let me catch you using it in here again. This, everyone, is irresponsible behaviour. And it has just cost this boy's house ten points. Go and sit down. You, red haired girl, come up instead.”

Severus does, ignoring Lily's reproachful look as she passes him. He has to walk between the desks of James and Sirius, who fix him with twin murderous glares.

“I'm sick of that slimy git playing games.” Sirius mutters to James. “He has it out for Remus. Maybe it's time we taught him another lesson, seeing as the last one clearly didn't take.”

James nods. “Yeah, but not tonight. We've got enough going on tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

He shoots another glare back at Snape, who leers back.

“This girl is going to use Impedimenta, and you, boy, will try to block it. Is that clear?” Richter says.

“Yes, professor. Ready, Remus?” Lily raises her wand.

He nods.

“Impedimenta!”

She flicks her wand and a jet of white light arcs towards Remus—

“Protego!” Shouts Remus.

It impacts with an invisible shield that has sprung from his wand tip and bounces away harmlessly.

“Very nice, very nice work indeed from both of you.” Says Richter. “Five points to Gryffindor apiece. Return to your seats.”

Lily beams as they step down to the desks together. “Well done, Remus!”

Avery, in the front row, mocks her tone. “Well _done_ , Remus! Watch out Shabby, I think Evans here might have a bit of a crush.

She ignores him and the laughter of the Slytherins and returns to her seat.

Remus doesn't look totally displeased, though, as he follows suit— but James feels a jolt of irritation.

“That Avery... Snape's one thing, but Avery's just an entirely different sort of evil.” He mutters.

Sirius shrugs. “I don't know, I reckon Avery's all talk. It's Snape we've really got to watch out for.”

“You could be right. He does seem to especially hate us an awful lot, doesn't he? No idea why.”

He yawns and tilts back on his chair.

* * *

Severus, lost in his own dark thoughts, heads away from the Defence classroom.

“Sev!”

Lily hurries after him, and he, content to see her, slows so she can keep pace with him.

“Hiya Lily, I was just off to the library, did—"

But she cuts sharply across him.

“I think what you did to Remus in class earlier was really rotten.”

He stiffens, his mood darkening again instantly.

“You shouldn't've done it,” she continues. “And I think you really ought to apologise for it.”

He scowls bitterly at her. “Oh yeah? And why should I? They've never apologized a day in their life for all the rubbish they've done to me, have they?”

“No, they haven't, but I know for a fact Remus doesn't behave the way his mates do. You're just taking it out on him, aren't you?”

“Oh, you know that for a bleeding fact, do you?” He sneers. “How do you know that? Has he told you that?

“So what if he did? Remus is honest, he wouldn't lie about—"

“He's lying about something. And I'll prove it to you.”

“Oh, honestly, I think you're being absolutely ridiculous. Remus—”

“Will you please stop calling him that?”

She stops, surprised. “Well, that's his name, isn't it?”

Severus squeezes his eyes shut.

“I- I just don't want you to think he's some sort of... all those times when his mates were pushing me around, and he just sat there... he's part of it, isn't he?”

Lily sees the truth in this and softens her demeanor.

“You've got a point. I'm sorry, Sev, and what he's done— or not done, I suppose— that's rotten too. I still think you ought to apologise to him. And so should he. Tell you what, if I talk to him about it—”

“Oh, don't do that—” he says quickly.

“No, I will.” Says Lily decidedly. “He's got to apologise as much as you have. It's only fair. If he does, will you promise you'll say you're sorry.”

“I don't know, Lily...”

“Please, Sev. Do it for me. Go on.” She wheedles.

He really, really doesn't want to— but of all the people on the planet asking him, it's her.

“Oh, alright, fine. I'll bloody apologize to him if that's what you want.”

She beams. “Oh, thanks Sev, I knew you would.”

“I'll be surprised if that little— if Lupin's as keen on apologising to me.”

“Oh, don't worry. Remus is alright really.”

“If you say so,” says Severus doubtfully. “Coming to the library?”

“Better not, I've got to go round my dormitory before next class. Are you going to Slughorn's party?”

Sev hesitates. He can hardly tell her about Mulciber’s ‘surprise’, whatever it is. “I... don't know. I don't think so, I've got loads of homework.” He says instead.

Lily looks awfully disappointed “Oh. Alright then. I'll see you later.”

He watches her flutter away a little dazedly, then heads down some steps, joining a stream of students heading towards the library.

Severus heads through the library, dawdling a bit, and then he finds his way to the advanced transfiguration section.

After a moment's pause, he climbs up on the desk and peruses the bookshelf—there is a noticeable gap where a book once was, and he brushes a hand over it thoughtfully. He could have sworn this is where the Animagi Compendium was. If he could just get his hands on it, he’d know more—

“Looking for this?”

Severus twists around to see Sirius Black below him, waving a book significantly— Sev doesn’t have to see it up close to know it’s the compendium.

“Give me that,” he demands, even though he knows Black will never do so.

Black sneers at him. “Honestly, Snivellus, did nobody teach you to ask for things nicely?”

Severus steps down from the shelf.

“I need that book.”

Black reads the spine critically. “Hmm... Torgoff's Animagi Compendium. Now what could a scheming, twisted little slimeball like you want with a book like this? Begs the question, doesn't it?

“I know what you and your mates have been up to,” says Severus.

Black regards him with amusement. “And what's that, then?”

“You're trying to become Animagi, aren't you?” Says Severus all in a rush. “Well, it's illegal if you're unregistered.”

Black looks at him for a moment, then laughs. “Well look at you, clever clogs. You think you've got it all figured out, don't you?”

“Well, haven't I?” Sev says. He hadn’t expected this reaction. Panic, anger, anything— but Black is absolutely cool.

“Listen, you sad bastard, if you want to go running off to the Ministry because you think a group of fifth years suddenly up and decided to become Animagi, do, by all means. Maybe they'll even put me in Azkaban! That'll be a laugh.”

Severus deflates, a great deal less certain about his theory now.

“You're dead wrong, though, and I'll tell you what.” Continues Black, then leans forward, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You ever been inside the Whomping Willow?”

Severus blinks at him, taken by surprise. “Inside the— What?”

“There’s something down there,” Black says cryptically.

“Down there? What’s down there?”

Black looks around, as though checking for eavesdroppers. “Something dangerous.”

Severus burns with curiosity. He has to know, has to see for himself. “How do you get in?”

“There's a knot on the tree somewhere you can press and the whole tree will freeze. We go down there all the time. We're going tonight, actually.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Severus says suspiciously.

Black frowns. “Honestly, I have no idea. Doesn't matter, anyway, I wanted to see if you'd have the gobstones to do something about it but you're probably just scared after last time.”

He feels his face heat up at the memory of his humiliation. “I'm not scared of either of you,” he snaps. “Or whatever's down there.”

Black gives a soft, nasty chuckle. “Oh, yeah, _that's_ convincing. 'Course you aren't scared. I'd say come and have a look yourself tonight but— nah, forget it.”

He turns to leave.

“But what? What's down there? What's down there?”

Black stops, gets right in his face. “You're a snivelling, worthless little coward. You really think I'd tell _you_?”

He pushes Severus away from him, then turns on his heel and leaves.

Severus barely notices the shove; his head is spinning with a whirlwind of new thoughts and questions. Whatever’s down in the Whomping Willow, it’s got something to do with Potter and Black and the rest of them, and he’s going to have to go down there and find out. Only this time, he’ll be ready for them.

* * *

Lily, sitting by herself in a corner of the study hall, worries. There’s no sign of Cresswell, even though he said he’d be there.  She stands up and moves her books over to sit next to Remus.

“Evans. What a pleasant surprise.” Says Potter, his hand jumping to his hair. Lily scowls at him.

“Save it, Potter. Hi, Remus.”

Remus, at least, looks pleased to see her. “Oh, hiya Lily, you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fab.”

“What are you after, then?” Says Black suspiciously.

“I'd just like a word with Remus.”

Remus waits expectantly, and she sighs.

In private,” she says.

Black oohs and James looks rather annoyed, crossing his arms.

“Well, alright.”

They stand up and he follows her to a secluded area behind a bookshelf, out of earshot of his friends and out of Amirali's sight.

“What's going on, then?” Says Remus interestedly.

“I spoke to Severus about earlier,” Lily begins.

Remus suddenly looks a lot less eager to hear what she's got to say. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He knows it was wrong of him and he wants to apologise.”

“He does?” Says Remus doubtfully. “That's... unexpected.”

“Yes, well, it took some convincing, but I thought maybe it was time to, you know, settle old differences. So I said I'd ask you.”

Remus laughs humourlessly. “Snape wants to settle old differences? That's a laugh. Besides, I don't know what you want me to do about it. I've never done anything to him, he's the one who's always having a go at me for no reason.”

“It's not for no reason,” Lily points out. “Your mates have always treated him worse than dirt... and you've never stood up for him, not once. Sev deserves an apology as much as you do. Doing nothing is almost as bad as participating.”

Remus looks at her incredulously. “Let me get this straight— he attacks me, _attacks_ me, and I'm supposed to apologise because I _didn't_ do anything?”

Lily's smile melts off her face almost instantly. “Oh, come on, Remus, you know what I'm trying to—"

“No, I don't.” Says Remus stubbornly. “And I don't care. I'm not apologising to that... that bastard, there's no way. Sorry, Lily.”

He walks away from her back to his friends, but she hurries after him.

“Remus—"

“Just leave it out, Lily.”

He sits down and opens his book, pretending to read it. His friends stare at Lily, confused.

“What on earth did you say, Evans?

“She wants me to apologise to Snape,” Remus says mutinously to his textbook.

They goggle at her as if she’s said she lives on the moon.

“She wants you to _what_?” Squeaks Pettigrew.

“Apologise? What for?” Black demands.

“She thinks we ought to settle old differences,” says Remus.

Black and Potter take one look at Lily's dejected face and start laughing.

“Good one, Evans.”

Lily crosses her arms. “It's not a joke. Hasn't this gone on long enough? You lot pick on him, then he picks on you, and it just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?”

Potter gives an irritatingly condescending sigh. “Look, Evans, I know your heart's in the right place, but you just don't get it. And you never will.”

“Why not?”

He seems to struggle for an answer for a few seconds, then comes up with: “Because you're a... a girl.”

“Oh, because I'm a girl?” Lily raises her eyebrows dangerously high.

“Yeah, that's what I said, isn't it?”

“And that doesn't strike you as a _bit_ sexist?”

“It's not sexist, alright, it's just how it is.” He says impatiently. “There's just certain understandings that blokes have between them that girls can't... I mean...there's just rules...”

“ _Rules_?”

“Yeah, right. Between blokes. Snape's got his moral code, and I've got mine. Just so happens mine is better.”

“Oh I see,” Lily says. “And it's your moral code that means you have to jinx Severus whenever you see him, is it?”

“Well... yes.”

He has the grace to look a bit chagrined as he says this, and Lily has the feeling he almost believes it— but Black and Pettigrew start laughing as if it was intended as a joke, and even Remus can't resist a grin.

Lily gets to her feet. “Fine,” she snaps. “You know what, fine. I can see I've wasted my time.”

Potter frowns. “Evans, I know you think you're in the right here—"

“Don't _you_ talk to me about right and wrong, Potter.” Lily says dangerously. “You're disgusting.”

To Lily’s satisfaction, he shuts up.

“Remus, I—” Lily takes a deep breath. “I was wrong about you all along, wasn't I? You really are just as bad as all your friends.”

Remus doesn't reply, a little too focused on the page of his book.

But Black stands up, forcing her to take a step back from their table. “Alright, I've had just about enough of your self-righteous, judgmental bollocks. If you don't mind, Evans, save your sermons for someone who's actually interested in what you've got to say. If such a person exists.”

Lily swallows but says nothing, silently scraping her books back into her bag. With a last disappointed glance at Remus, she departs— head held high.

“That was really rude,” says Remus unhappily. He watches Lily exit the study hall in disappointment. All because of that bastard Snape, he has no chance with her now…and bloody Sirius isn’t helping.

Sirius shrugs, not caring, until—

“Yeah, that was a bit out of order, mate.” James says, looking about as annoyed as Remus feels.

“What, you as well?” Says Sirius in confusion. “Did both of you miss everything she just said?”

James shakes his head. “No, I know she was talking absolute rubbish but she was only trying to help. In her own misguided way.”

“Well pardon me,” says Sirius with a roll of his eyes. “I didn't realise it was everyone's time of the month. Apart from yours, Remus, I s'pose that's obvious.”

He and Peter laugh but James is less amused, and Remus grinds his teeth, wishing more than anything that Sirius would just _shut up_ …

“Look, James, if you really want me to go and apologise to Evans I will, but I just don't see what all the fuss is about. She's heard it all before and she lived, didn't she? It's only Evans.”

James won’t meet Remus’s eye, and Remus frowns. There _is_ something strange, he thinks, about the fact that James isn’t on Sirius’s side.

“Look, let's just forget about it.” Says Peter hastily. “We've got a big night ahead, remember, don't want to ruin it.”

James nods. “You're right, sorry.”

Remus looks at his watch and stands up, piling his books back into his bag

“You off, Remus?”

“Yeah. Sunset's only in an hour and a half.”

“Alright, we'll wait until Madam Pomfrey's out of the way and join you.” James says. Seeing Remus's uncertain look, he reaches out to clasp his shoulder comfortingly.

“Look, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Everything's going to go brilliantly.”

But Sirius grins in a way that doesn’t reassure Remus in the slightest.

* * *

The Hog's Head is a cramped and uninviting, dingy and dark. Aberforth Dumbledore stands at the bar polishing glasses with a grimy rag. Occasionally, he glances over at the far corner.

In this corner Mulciber sits at a table, the hood of his robes pulled low over his eyes. He's on edge, waiting. He plays nervously with a beer mat, flipping it over and over in his hands.

Finally, the door opens, and a man in a travelling cloak enters the pub. Mulciber gets to his feet immediately. The man approaches him, lowers his hood to reveal dark eyes and a neatly-trimmed beard.

“What have you got for me?” Says Travers in lieu of greeting.

“Not much,” Mulciber says nervously. “I'm under suspicion at the moment, because of some stupid mishap with a mudblood. Getting out of the castle was a job.”

“What sort of mishap?”

“I was going to use her to get to Dumbledore. But they caught on before I could do anything, and now she's under guard night and day in the hospital wing.”

Travers gives him a withering look. “Sloppy. Deal with the issue.”

“Yes. Sorry, I will.”

“We're planning some activity in London over the holidays and we can't afford added scrutiny at the moment. I don't want anyone suspecting you of anything more than a harmless school prank. Make sure it's sorted out.”

Mulciber bows his head contritely. “Yes, Travers. It's already underway.”

“Good,” says Travers, apparently satisfied. “We'll not contact you until after Christmas, so until then fix your blunder and keep your head down. If you need to find a scapegoat to take yourself out of the line of fire, then do it. He or she will be well received in our company.”

Mulciber thinks this over, nodding.

“Alright.”

“Very well then. You'd had better be getting back before anyone gets suspicious. And I have business of my own to take care of.”

Mulciber nods and they stand. They shake hands. The dark, twisting lines of a tattoo on Travers’s arm peek out from beneath his sleeve.

Mulciber stares at it, hungrily.

* * *

Remus hovers nervously in the hospital wing. Outside the windows, he can see the sun is already low in the horizon— sunset isn't far off. Madam Pomfrey is in her office, waving her wand over some glass vials filled with liquid, which shimmers and turns lilac. Whatever incantation she’s muttering, he can’t make it out.

Remus clears his throat and she starts, spotting him.

“Cutting it a bit close tonight, aren't we?”

“Yeah sorry, I just—”

“One moment, I’ll just get my cloak.” Says Madam Pomfrey. She hurries to put away the potion vials, setting her wand down on her desk before looking around for her cloak and hat.

Remus stares nervously at the bed he knows Mary MacDonald is sleeping in. It’s supposed to be a secret, but rumours about what happened to her have been flying around the school all week. He knows Dirk Cresswell’s been practically living at her bedside.

Madam Pomfrey catches him looking. “Oh, you needn’t worry about her. The potion I gave her put her out like a light, and I sent her friend away hours ago.

“Oh,” says Remus. “Alright then.”

“You ready? Come on then, no time to waste.”

Remus nods, follows her out.

* * *

Slughorn's office is decorated with cheerful Christmas spirit, wreaths and tinsel and mistletoe as well as magically floating baubles. There aren't many people there yet, but Slughorn himself is setting things up at the drinks table.

Lily has come alone, looking around a little nervously. She's put a bit more effort into her appearance than usual, her hair done up and sporting a little bit of Marlene’s eyeshadow— which she’d taken the liberty of dipping into, though it wasn’t quite her colour.

“Lily, my dear girl, there you are.” Says Slughorn jovially as he spots her.

“Oh, hi Professor.”

“On your own tonight are you? Well we can't have that, can we? Here, come and help me with the drinks.”

Gratefully, she does.

“Pass me that little blue pot there, would you?”

Lily hands it to him, looking at it curiously.

“Here. What is it?” She asks.

“Thank you— it's powdered billiwig sting. Just a pinch, sprinkled on top, to give the cocktail a little buzz, you know. There we are. Is Severus coming tonight?”

Lily sighs, looks down. “I don't think so. He said he had homework.”

“Homework?” Slughorn asks curiously, dusting cocktails with the electric blue powder. “It’s the last day of term.”

This hits Lily like a battering ram. “Oh, well, er, maybe he’s— got something else.” She stammers. Her mind reels— _why_ would Sev lie to her?

Slughorn looks at her with paternalistic concern. “Is everything quite alright, my dear? Is it Severus? The two of you used to be so close, but I hardly see you together anymore. Now slice these lemons, would you?”

Lily hardly looks at the lemons as she brings the knife down again and again, chopping them into wedges. “Yeah, I know, I s'pose we've just... grown apart, that's all.”

“That can happen. People change as they grow older, and other things can just get in the way. Life, you know. We like to think our friendships are unbreakable, but it isn't always so. People can change, and they can do things that disappoint or even hurt you.”

Lily isn't too keen on that.

“Well, I'm sure you two will work it out. Now would you be a dear and pop some lemon wedges on these glasses here?”

Lily starts sliding lemon wedges onto the rims of the elegant cocktail glasses Slughorn has laid out as he departs to greet the guests that are beginning to enter. She can’t stop turning it over in her mind, Sev has been so strange lately, maybe something’s wrong, maybe she hasn’t been paying enough attention—

Lily looks up and quickly drops her gaze when Marlene, accompanied by Shea and Selwyn, sees her.

Marlene stalks over.

“I'd like a drink. Something strong.”

“Are you sure you should be drinking?” Says Lily coolly.

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Oh, honestly. Forget it then.”

Lily bites her lip. “What are you doing with them, Marlene?”

“You're one to talk,” says Marlene icily. “What's Snape up to tonight, then? Too busy cursing people to be your date?”

Lily looks down, hurt.

* * *

Sunset is almost upon the grounds, though the moon has not yet risen. The blizzard has stopped; instead, an eerie hush has descended upon the grounds, as if the air is holding its breath.

From behind a tree, Severus watches as Madam Pomfrey and Lupin hurry towards the Whomping Willow, which is swaying menacingly.

With an ease that suggests he's done it many times before, Lupin darts forward to press the knot near the base of the trunk.

Instantly the tree freezes, and Madam Pomfrey hurries into the dark passage.

Lupin takes a look back across the grounds before he enters, like he's expecting someone to be there— Severus freezes, pressing himself flat to the trunk— then Lupin turns around, follows her into the Willow.

* * *

All is quiet in the darkened Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey still hasn't returned, and Mary sleeps peacefully.

The doors open, and someone enters, moving deliberately towards Mary's bed.

He almost walks across the magical barrier before he sees it, the toe of his shiny black shoe stopping just shy of the glowing white line.

Rosier, frowning, takes a few steps back and raises his wand. Silently, he levitates Mary— still sleeping— out of her bed and floats her with him as he leaves the hospital wing.

Inside Madam Pomfrey's office, her forgotten wand issues a warning cloud of smoke.

* * *

James, Sirius and Peter are sitting on some snow-free steps under a small section of roof, smoking.

“Do you think she's gone by now?” Says Peter.

“Yeah, probably.” James says.

He stands up, squints into the darkness. He can see, distantly, a figure hurrying into the castle.

“Look, there she goes. Shall we, then?”

 “Poor Remus looked awfully nervous earlier, didn't he.” Comments Peter as they head towards the Whomping Willow.

James sighs. “Yeah, I reckon all that rubbish with Evans and Snivellus had him rattled, didn't it? It makes me sick to think that Snape just thinks he can get away with it.”

“Oh, don't worry about Snape.” Says Sirius smugly. “He's about to get what's coming to him, you'll see.”

James looks at him, interested. “Why, what're you thinking?”

Sirius says nothing, looks ahead with a grin. James grows a little uneasy.

“Sirius... what've you done?”

“Oh, nothing. I've only gone and told Snape he should have a look down in the Whomping Willow, thought it—"

James's reaction is immediate and horrified, his eyes growing wide and hand flying to his mouth.

“You did what?! Have you completely— what's wrong with you?”

Sirius frowns, confused. “What are you so worked up about? It's only Snivellus.”

James shakes his head desperately, realising that there's no time to make him understand.

“Fuck, just... just get out of here, alright? Both of you. I'll sort this out, just— oh, bollocks.”

Sirius, utterly bewildered, reaches out for him but James shoves him off.

“ _Don't_ , just— get out of here!”

He starts running, leaving Sirius and Peter behind.

James runs, as fast as he can, tearing over the grounds towards the willow— it's not fast enough, and the snow is slowing him down. He launches himself into the air and hits the ground on four hooves.

The stag takes off like lightning across the snowy grass.

* * *

Severus reaches the knot on the willow and presses it with a stick.

As the tree freezes he grins to himself, then heads into the tunnel.

Snape stumbles a little as he enters the narrow sloping passageway. He starts down it, grabbing onto roots that stick out of the earthen walls for support.

He hears a menacing growl from somewhere in the depths and pauses nervously, then steels himself and continues. Whatever Potter and his mates are up to, this is his chance to prove it.

* * *

Rosier has just arrived at a small alcove where Mulciber, Avery, and Wilkes are gathered. He sets Mary down between them.

“Ah, excellent, the guest of honour has arrived.

“What, her?” Says Wilkes, disappointed. “Isn't that just Mary MacDonald? I heard she was sick, she might be contagious.”

Mulciber rolls his eyes. “This isn't _just_ Mary MacDonald. This is the future, for all mudbloods at this school. Watch and learn.”

He points his wand at her.

“Reenervate.”

Slowly, Mary stirs back to life. She blinks, looks up at her surroundings. As soon as Mulciber comes into focus her eyes widen in horror.

He points his wand at her again, looking at her with calculation.

“ _Imperio_.”

* * *

Severus has stopped at a wooden door. He can hear scratching and snarling from the other side, and he grips his wand, which is awfully sweaty.

Severus tries the doorknob. Locked.

“Alohomora.”

It clicks open and he turns it—

He has a brief glimpse of a dilapidated room with boarded up windows. And in the corner...

Hulking, massive, slavering jaws and wild, inhuman eyes— a horrible beast is hunched over, drawing horrible raspy animal breaths. Its nose twitches, scenting something.

Severus stares in horrified shock as slowly the werewolf turns around and locks his gaze on him.

Severus is petrified, and he can't even move as it lunges forward at him— but he's yanked aside at the last second by the back of his robes.

“Run, you idiot, what are you waiting for?” Potter yells.

Severus, more terrified than he’s ever been in his entire life, scrambles back and does so. The werewolf is now bearing down on Potter instead, who whips out his wand.

The beast bears down on him, and takes a vicious swipe at him with one enormous claw—

“Protego!”

The blow goes glancing off Potter’s magical shield, and the werewolf is knocked off balance but quickly recovers.

“Conjunctivitis!”

A narrow beam of red light nails the werewolf in the eye— it staggers back and lets out a howl of pain. Potter slams the door shut and runs after Severus, whose legs have turned to jelly— he has to keep moving, but he _can’t_ — Potter grabs him roughly by the arm and yanks him along. They race up the tunnel, Potter not stopping even as Severus trips and stumbles along behind him. He can hear the scrabbling and snarling of the beast behind them, blundering half-blindly and crashing into walls.

After what seems like an eternity, they finally emerge from the Willow and Potter kicks the knot on the trunk before throwing Severus furiously forward onto the snow. His wand rolls out of his grasp.

“You— you stupid, nosy, idiotic little wanker.” Potter snarls down at him, beyond fury. “What the fuck did you think you were doing, eh? You almost got killed and you would've deserved it. Fucking bastard.”

Severus glares at him with pure hatred mixed with some kind of wild triumph.

“I know your big secret now. What's to stop me from telling everyone, then, now that I know? Who's going to stop me?”

They both eye his wand— Sev dives for it, but Potter is faster. He tosses it down the tunnel without looking.

“Get it tomorrow. You know where it'll be. Come on, get up, we're going.”

He hauls Severus roughly to his feet by the back of his robes.

“What? Where?”

Potter looks ahead grimly. “We're going to Dumbledore.”

* * *

Mary stands listlessly as all four Slytherin boys regard her with gleeful amusement.

“Let me try,” says Avery eagerly.

“Well it has to be me, since I cast the curse.” Says Mulciber. “What do you want her to do?”

“Make her take her top off,” sniggers Avery.

All the boys giggle with excitement— they'd all been thinking it, but Avery was the first to say it.

Mulciber screws up his face in concentration.

_Take your top off… take it off…_

Slowly, Mary pulls her top off over her head.

Suddenly, wandlight flashes from the end of the darkened corridor.

“Shit, run!” Hisses Wilkes.

The boys take off, leaving Mary standing there.

The Slytherins round the corner, Mulciber and Avery in the lead, Rosier lagging behind—

“Stupefy!” Shouts Professor McGonagall.

A beam of red light hits Rosier and knocks him out cold. Mulciber looks back at him, and then shoves the other two down a stairwell.

Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall hurry forward towards Mary and Rosier, taking in the scene.

“Take these two to the hospital wing.” Says McGonagall in a faint voice. “I'll fetch Albus... and Horace, seeing as it's his student…”

Madam Pomfrey nods, looks down at the unconscious Rosier. “This is horrifying... I never thought... it's my fault.”

McGonagall shakes her head. “It's not your fault, Poppy. You were doing your job, helping another student, and well... maybe Gerhard was right.”

She prods Rosier with her toe.

“Maybe some of these children are beyond saving,” she says.

* * *

The party is in full swing, but Marlene isn’t having much fun. She keeps seeing Lily, standing awkwardly on the edge of Slughorn's conversation, glancing sidelong at her.

Marlene, fed up, approaches her again. “Do you want something?” She snaps.

Lily looks downcast. “I just... I really don't understand why you're so angry at me. I don't understand what I've done wrong or why you hate me.”

Marlene sighs heavily, feeling guilty despite herself. “Merlin, you... you haven't done anything wrong, Lily. I don't hate you.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Because I'm a bitch,” Marlene says simply.

Lily frowns, opens her mouth to say more, but Professor McGonagall enters and makes a beeline for Slughorn.

“Horace, you have to come with me... it's Mary MacDonald.”

Marlene and Lily look at each other, alarmed.

* * *

Severus slumps in his seat as Dumbledore peers over his desk at them.

“You say it was your friend, Sirius, who told him about the Willow?” He says to Potter.

“Yeah, he was just being stupid, he didn't think about it—"

Severus scoffs.

Dumbledore’s eyes flash dangerously. “No, clearly he did not. And you, Severus, did _you_ think twice before rushing down there? If James hadn't arrived on time, you could have died, or become a werewolf yourself. You owe James a great deal—"

“Oh, please.” Severus interrupts hatefully. “He wasn't doing it for me, he was only doing it to save his mate's skin.”

Dumbledore frowns at him, displeased with the interruption. “James risked his own life to save yours. When one wizard saves another's life, it creates an unbreakable bond. A debt.”

They look at each other in revulsion, not too keen on the idea.

“Is Black going to be expelled?” Severus says.

Potter sits up.

“No. Nobody is going to be expelled tonight. Sirius Black was thoughtless, yes, and he'll be given consequences after the holidays— but each is responsible for his own actions. And the way James acted tonight was incredibly noble and selfless. I've rarely seen such bravery. You should be proud, James.”

Potter sinks back down, relieved. “Thanks, sir.”

Severus feels as though he might be sick with fury. All of it, for nothing. Potter still comes out the hero. He opens his mouth to protest further, but Dumbledore fixes him with a steely gaze.

“As for you, Severus, I must ask that you do not repeat what you have learned tonight to anyone. A boy's future is at stake.”

“But—"

“It's time to put petty school rivalries aside. I feel compelled to warn you that I will not abide cowardly, vengeful action. If Remus is forced to leave this school because word of his condition spreads, then so shall you. You will have to leave Hogwarts forever, and surrender your wand. But from the bottom of my heart, I hope that you'll keep your silence for the sake of doing the right thing.”

Nothing, not even a werewolf, could be more frightening than expulsion to Severus. He closes his mouth abruptly.

“So, do I have your word?” Dumbledore prompts him.

Severus wrenches the words from his tongue. “You have my word,” he mumbles, barely audible.

Dumbledore is about to speak again when the door opens and Professor McGonagall enters, looking stricken.

“Albus, you have to come, quickly.”

He reads the look on her face and stands up immediately. “Boys, head back to your common rooms and try to get some sleep. Severus, remember what I've said.”

He hurries out after McGonagall. Potter takes one last disgusted look at Severus and follows them.

Severus, once nobody can see him, threads his hands through his hair in anguish.

* * *

Lily is packing a few of her things into her trunk, casually trying to listen in to what Dorcas and Blanca are saying.

“So, d'you think you'll see him over the holidays?” Says Blanca.

 “Oh I don't know...maybe.” Says Dorcas offhandedly. “Our parents are old friends, so I s'pose I'll see him if we have our usual Christmas do.”

“Yes, but are you going to see him _alone_?”

Dorcas turns light pink. “I don't know, I mean, I'd like to...”

“Well why not? It's past time the two of you made it official.” Blanca says. “I mean, you have… _you know_.”

Lily busies herself pairing socks, feeling heat rush to her face. Has Dorcas really… with Potter…? The thought makes her stomach do a funny little squirm.

“I know, I know...” Dorcas says.

They head for the door, passing Lily. Dorcas stops and frowns at Marlene's bed, which clearly has not been slept in.

“McKinnon isn't around much these days, is she?” She comments.

It's still a little stiff between them.

“No,” Lily mumbles, feeling very hot all of a sudden.

Dorcas rolls her eyes and heads out.

Lily sighs, closes her trunk and hurries after her into the common room.

McGonagall is standing there, next to an anxious Cresswell. Lily rushes towards them, all thoughts of Dorcas having had sex forgotten.

“Miss Evans.”

“It's Mary, isn't it? What's happened? I heard, last night, at the party—"

“Calm down, Miss Evans. Mary is fine. You can go and see her later. Last night, a few students thought it would be amusing to kidnap Miss MacDonald and... well, that hardly matters now. The main culprit has been expelled.”

“Mulciber?” Asks Lily.

McGonagall gives her an odd look. “No, Evan Rosier.”

Lily glances at Cresswell, confused.

“But I thought Mulciber...”

“It was Mr. Rosier who moved Miss MacDonald from her bed, and it was he who was found at the scene. We have confiscated his wand and tested it with _priori incantatem_. We found no trace of the Imperius curse, but there was enough frightening Dark magic there to expel him five times over.”

Lily's eyes have grown wide at the mention of the Imperius curse, her heart hammering.

“We'll wake her up at noon so she can head home with the rest of you. For now, she needs rest.” McGonagall says. She gives them a small, sympathetic smile, and departs.

“Imperius curse?” Lily repeats hollowly.

“Yeah, that was Richter’s theory when I first told them about Mary.” Cresswell says.

“Christ...”

“There's no way it wasn't Mulciber,” says Cresswell. “She said they didn't have any evidence and that Rosier confessed, but I just know it. Mulciber had her— she didn't want to tell me this, but the way they found Mary...”

“How?” Lily says apprehensively.

Cresswell sighs angrily, kicks at the ground. “They found her without her top on, didn't they. Fucking bastard. I'll kill him.”

Lily absorbs this, horrorstruck. “Where was Madam Pomfrey? I thought she was meant to be watching?”

“She was... I don't really understand it.” Says Cresswell with a frown. “It’s got something to do with your mate. Snape.”

“Sev?” Lily says hoarsely. She can’t believe he had anything to do with this, he can’t have done… _please_ , she thinks.

“Yeah, him. He decided last night was the night to go poking around in the Whomping Willow. Potter had to go in after him and rescue him from whatever's down there. You hear it at night sometimes, don't you?”

Lily's hand flies to her mouth, the world spiralling around her. “Is he— is he alright?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Cresswell says with a shrug, as if he doesn’t much care. “And lucky for him, I know he wasn't involved in what happened to Mary last night.”

Mixed relief and worry swim up within Lily. “Right,” she says. “I knew he wouldn’t be.”

* * *

Marlene stirs slowly into wakefulness, taking in her surroundings.

She’s in a large room, spartan and unfamiliar, containing only a wide mattress on which Shea still sleeps beside her.

Marlene crawls forward towards a helpfully placed glass of water and downs it in two gulps.

“You're up.”

Marlene blinks at Nicola.

“Yeah, I... don't really remember anything.”

“No, you were pretty out of it.” Nicola agrees. “Something about MacDonald. You were rather upset.”

 _Mary_ , Marlene remembers with a lurch. “Where are we?

“The Come-and-go room. It only appears when you really need it.”

“What? How come I've never heard of it?”

Nicola shrugs. Marlene looks uncertainly back at the mattress.

“He and I didn't—"

Nicola laughs. “Merlin's balls, no. Don't be stupid.”

“That's all I've been lately,” says Marlene helplessly.

Nicola sighs, sitting down next to Marlene with her legs crossed.

“Don't worry.”

“Yeah, I—” Marlene stops. “Hang on, what was that? Were you just trying to be nice? Were you trying to comfort me?”

Nicola scoffs. “Well, I obviously didn't do a very good job.”

Marlene grins a little. “Means a lot that you tried.”

They look at each other for a second, smiling. Then Nicola leans over and kisses Marlene on the lips. Marlene returns the kiss at first, eyes closing—

—and it dawns on her what she's doing and her eyes snap open. She scrambles back and gets to her feet.

“Look, I'm sorry, I've got to go—"

Nicola watches her go, impassive.

* * *

The Marauders are gathered around Remus's bed, not saying anything. Remus is looking away from all of them, his left eye covered with a patch.

“Come on, Remus, he's said he's sorry.” Says James.

“I don't care. I don't want to talk to him. Make him leave.”

“Moony, I—” Begins Sirius, but Remus interrupts.

“ _Don't_ call me that.”

“Maybe you _should_ go,” says James. “You've done enough damage.”

Sirius frowns. “Nothing happened, did it? Bloody Snape is fine, James is fine, you're fine, we're all fine except for MacDonald over there.”

“Don't joke,” snaps James.

“Don't _joke_?”

“It's not funny. Not now. You almost killed someone, Sirius. Worse, you almost let Remus kill someone. Do you have any idea what that would've meant?”

“No, I... I didn't think about it.” Sirius says, hanging his head.

“No, you never do, do you? Actions have consequences, you prat, it's about bloody time you learnt it.”

Sirius reacts as if he's been slapped and then immediately turns defensive, drawing himself up haughtily. “I don't have to learn anything. You know what— I don't need this. Not from you, not from anyone.”

James shrugs. “Do what you like.”

“I will. Fuck you.”

He storms out. Peter watches him go gloomily.

“Remus, don't you think—"

“No.” Says Remus. “I don't want to talk about it. Why don't you all just leave me alone? I'm tired.”

James heaves a sigh. “Fine. Peter, let's just— I'll see you over the holidays, Remus. I _will_ see you. I don't care if I've got to break down your door.”

The ghost of a smile passes over Remus's face, but it's gone quickly.

James draws the hangings around Remus's bed, and they leave, quietly.

* * *

It’s the last day before they go home, and Lily can’t think of a worse start to the holidays. She hasn’t been able to speak to Severus since the night Mary was attacked, and she has the feeling he might be avoiding her. Rumours have been flying around all weekend about Severus going down the Whomping Willow, and how James Potter saved him. Uncharacteristically, Potter himself has been oddly quiet about it all— Lily thought he'd have loved the attention like usual.

Finally, she spots him hurrying across the courtyard

“Sev, can I have a word?”

She glares at Avery with great dislike.

“Lily, can it wait?” He says impatiently.

This, for Lily, is something like the last straw.

“No, you know what, no!” She says angrily. “It can't bloody wait, Severus, not this time. Avery, piss off.”

“What's got into you—” To Lily's satisfaction, Avery shuts right up as she takes out her wand.

“Didn't you hear me? I said _piss off_.”

Avery raises his hands, backs away. “Alright, alright, I'm going.”

He leaves Severus and Lily to it— Lily starts walking fast in the opposite direction, and Severus follows her, irritated.

“What do you think you're doing? Have you gone mental?”

She whirls around. “Have you? I feel like I don't even know you anymore. I know you lied to me—"

“I never—"

“Shut up, I'm talking! I know you lied about having homework. You must think I'm such a great bloody fool, don't you?”

Severus is thrown, raking his memory in a panic for what she could be talking about; he can’t remember lying about homework, he’s had to lie so often to her that he can barely sort out the tangled web he’s made of it.

“I don't think that at all,” he says.

“Oh yeah? Because it seems like you do. You think you can do whatever you like and I'll just look the other way, don't you? You think I'll be on your side, no matter what?”

“I thought we were supposed to be friends? Best friends?” Says Severus.

Lily closes her eyes and sighs heavily. She stops and leans against a pillar.

“We are, Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging 'round with! I'm sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! _Mulciber_!”

Severus shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how much she knows; Avery and Wilkes had been quick to regale him with a spirited account of their narrow escape, and Rosier hadn’t been seen since then. The other Slytherins seemed to find the whole situation very amusing, but Sev had been too preoccupied by his newfound knowledge about Remus Lupin to really do much other than laugh along blandly at their jokes.

“What do you see in him, Sev, he's creepy! D'you know what he tried to do to Mary MacDonald yesterday?”

“That was nothing, it was a laugh, that's all.”

Lily glares at him. “It was Dark Magic, Sev, and if you think that's funny—"

He interrupts her angrily. What does Lily know about it? “What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?”

“Potter? What's Potter got to do with it?”

“They sneak out at night—” He says breathlessly. “There's something weird about that Lupin... where does he keep going?”

Lily is not keen on the change of subject. “He's ill, they say he's ill. It—"

“Every month at the full moon?”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Oh here we go, you and your theories. Why are you so obsessed with them, anyway? Why do you care what they're doing at night?”

“I'm just trying to show you they're not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.”

He stares at her, willing her to understand, to see it from his perspective. She averts her gaze.

“It's not the same... They don't use Dark Magic, do they? And you're being really ungrateful. I heard what happened to you the other night.”

Severus twitches.

 “Yeah, you went sneaking down the Whomping Willow, and _James Potter_ saved you from whatever's down there—"

Indignation rises up within Severus. He’s been afraid of this, of Lily worshipping James Potter just like everyone else in her house did. Potter has obviously twisted the story, made himself look good… but how can she believe it, after all Potter’s done to him?

“Save— _saved_? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends' too. You're not going to— I won't let you—"

But Lily is not having it. “Let me? _Let me_?”

“I didn't mean— I just don't want to see you made a fool of— he fancies you! James Potter fancies you!”

It costs him a great effort to admit. Lily, however, doesn't seem to be taking him very seriously, just shakes her head, eyebrows rising. He splutters incoherently to try and make her understand.

“And he's not... everyone thinks... big Quidditch hero—"

“I know James Potter's an arrogant toerag, I don't need you to tell me that.”

Severus visibly relaxes, and they start walking again. Lily’s not stupid, she knows what Potter’s like.

“But Mulciber and Avery's idea of humour is just evil. _Evil_ , Sev. I don't understand how you can be friends with them.”

Severus barely hears her, he’s so relieved she's still on his side about this.

“Look I think you just ought to choose better friends. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep making excuses for you, that's all.”

At this, Sev twists around to look at her. “Choose better friends? And who's that s'posed to be, exactly?”

“I know it's not easy, us being in different houses and all. But I just feel like they're turning you into someone I don't recognise. Someone I don't even like.”

This hits Severus rather hard.

“Slughorn said people grow apart...” Lily says.

“Not us. We don't.” He says, stubbornly.

* * *

The platform is wreathed in steam as students climb aboard the Hogwarts Express, eager to go home and enjoy their holidays.

Less cheerily, Lily is pulling her trunk across the platform. She stops and curses as her trunk hits a snag.

“Fucking bollocks,” she swears.

“Are prefects allowed to use that sort of language?”

Lily looks up to see Potter standing in front of her. “Save it, Potter, I've had an awful day.”

“You seem to be having a lot of those lately, don't you?” He comments, then nods at her trunk. “What, were you late packing? They took all the luggage this morning.”

“Yeah, I’ve left it a bit late. I’ve… had other things on my mind.” She mutters, wiping her forehead and wondering how on earth she’s going to lift her heavy trunk onto the train.

He looks at her oddly. “Here, let me help.”

It occurs to her she could just levitate it in but instead she shrugs, surrenders the trunk to him. He heaves it into the carriage for her, shoving it into the luggage compartment.

He seems to want to say something, and she waits for whatever it is—

“Listen, Evans, give yourself a break this Christmas. Just try and forget about... whatever it is that troubles the average young witch these days.”

Lily blinks. “Great. Thanks for the sage advice.”

“Yeah... just this once, I won't charge you for it.”

She rolls her eyes but can't resist a little grin. They board the train.

“Christ, just— happy Christmas, Potter. Thanks for the, you know.” She gestures at the trunk, but feels as though, in a way, she’s thanking him for saving Sev as well.

“Yeah. Happy Christmas.” He says awkwardly, and it almost seems as if he’s understood.

She finds a compartment, not bothering to look for any of her friends, and settles down in the seat by the window.

A shrill whistle sounds across the station and the Hogwarts Express, issuing steam, starts pulling forward.

Lily stares out of the window, lost in thought. Despite the brightness of the snowy countryside rushing by, everything seems so much darker.


	7. This Is Only the Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily and Sev try to make their own fun in the Muggle world. Meanwhile, Grimmauld place receives unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the (relative) delay in updating. I've been fairly busy/distracted of late but I'm still working on things! I have most of part one (fifth year) written, I just need to finish things up.

It's the morning rush in Finsbury Park tube station, which is jam packed with people trying to catch their trains.

A wild-haired woman with heavy-lidded eyes pushes her way to the platform entrance, dressed in black robes that mark her as different to the Muggles around her. Her wand is held tightly in her grasp. Despite her unusual appearance, the Muggles seem to barely glance her way— their eyes slide right over her.

She's joined by another person in dark robes who she seems to recognise. He, too, seems to remain unnoticed by the Muggles around them.

“Travers. Took you long enough.” Says Bellatrix.

“Got held up. Mad, this, isn't it? There's so many of them.”

Bellatrix stares over the crowd, lip curling in distaste. “Vermin, crawling over each other like filth... it disgusts me.”

“It disgusts us all,” concurs Travers. “Still, we've a job to do.”

She nods, and they continue.

He waves his wand at the ticket officer, who dazedly lets them pass through the gates and down the escalators. They wait for a train, then board it after a family of four.

The carriage is packed, and there's no seats left by the time they push their way through the doors.

Travers waves his wand again, and the two children stand up so he and Bellatrix can sit down. Nobody on the wagon seems to notice anything unusual.

“We could have picked something a bit more exciting,” says Bellatrix, inspecting her nails. “We already crashed a train at the beginning of the year, didn't we?”

“This isn't a train. It's the station. And besides, our work isn't about fun, Bellatrix.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, I know.”

They ride one stop, then get off the train. As they exit, Bellatrix sees one of the children staring at her. She meets his curious gaze, then frowns and looks away.

They climb the stairs and stop, looking down into the station— still filled with people.

They raise their wands and conjure a dangerously pulsing orb of glowing red light- as one, they turn and fling it into the station behind them before running out of the station and into the light.

They wait—

A tremendous explosion makes the earth rattle behind them. They look back— the platform entrance has collapsed in on itself, and the street around them erupts in screams and noise.

Travers points his wand calmly into the sky.

“Morsmordre!” He yells.

A smoky green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth rises from his wand and hovers threateningly above the station.

Bellatrix allows herself a triumphant smirk.

* * *

Lily's room is much like a typical suburban teenage girl's room— walls papered with posters and photographs, colourful prints and fabrics decorating the furniture— but in one corner sits a pile of spellbooks and potions ingredients.

A record player is playing a Bowie tune, and plugged into it is Lily herself— wearing headphones and lying back on her bed, staring up at her ceiling. Biscuit the cat is curled up by her feet, snoozing gently.

She hears a knock at the door and sits up, pulling her headphones off.

“Come in!” She calls.

The door opens and Petunia Evans enters, glaring sourly around Lily’s room. She’s wearing a smart blouse and a conservative brown skirt— in Lily’s opinion, Petunia’s fashion sense has suffered greatly over the last few years.

“Oh, Tuney, hi.” Lily says without enthusiasm.

Petunia purses her lips. “Not listening to that awful pop music of yours again, are you? Don't freaks have their own music?”

Lily rolls her eyes, flicks the switch on her music centre. “Well there's some, but it's mostly rubbish so these days lots of wizard kids listen to muggle music instead. Besides, who's to say that David Bowie isn't a wizard himself?”

She looks reverently up at her ceiling again, at the large poster of David Bowie plastered there.

“He's certainly freaky enough to be one.”

“Well I think he's gorgeous,” sniffs Lily.

Petunia grimaces, clearly not in agreement. “Well, you would.”

“Did you just come up here to be nasty or did you want something?”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot.” Says Petunia with a sneer. “That horrible boy's here to see you. He's in the kitchen.”

“You could just call him Severus,” Lily says. “You've known him for years.”

Petunia rolls her eyes as she leaves. “Just get him _out_ my kitchen, would you? Pauline's coming 'round in an hour to pick me up for dinner and I _don't_ want him hanging about.”

Lily sighs, adjusts her hair a little in her mirror before lifting the reluctant cat from her bed and heading for the stairs.

“It's not _her_ kitchen, is it, Biscuit.” Lily grumbles into his fur.

In the Evans' kitchen, which is small but bright and clean and comfortable, Severus is seated at a small wooden table, speaking to Lily's parents and he has a plated ham sandwich in front of him.

Graham and Rosalind Evans turn at the sight of Lily, who deposits the cat on the ground.

“Oh and here she is, finally.” Says Graham good-naturedly. “Didn't you hear me calling?”

“Oh... no, sorry. I had my headphones on.”

“Our Lily and her modern music, in't that right?” Graham tries to share a fondly exasperated look with Severus, who returns it with an awkward smile.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Oh dad, Sev likes that stuff too, don't you Sev?”

“Well... a little.”

It’s still a bit awkward between them, but Lily’s willing to put it all aside if he is. Things are different here in Cokeworth, after all; the problems of Hogwarts seem far away.

“Are you ready to go?” Lily says.

“Oh, for christ sakes, Lily, let the boy finish his sarnie.” Says Rosalind. “He's skinny as a rake, look at him.”

Sev looks embarrassed by this, but Lily breezes past it.

“He can eat it on the way. We'll miss the film if we don't hurry, come on.”

Severus shrugs apologetically, picking up his sandwich and moving the plate to the sink.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Evans.”

Rosalind smiles at him. “Oh, don't mention it, dear. Lily, don't forget your coat.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “How would I forget my coat? It's zero bloomin' degrees out there.”

“Well, I don't know, you're always forgetting something, aren't you?”

“Don't worry so much, mum. Ta.”

She kisses her mum on the cheek, then her dad. Severus watches this scene of familial affection a little wistfully before Lily drags him out of the kitchen.

Out in the hall, Lily and Sev bundle up for the cold weather. Severus's muggle clothes are a little threadbare, and very ill-fitting.

“Haven't you got a scarf?” Lily says. “Hang on.”

She selects a light brown scarf from the coatrack and wraps it around his neck tightly, giggling as he tries to fend her off.

“Oh, come on, you'll freeze to death if you don't.”

“Is this a girl's scarf?” Severus says doubtfully, inspecting it. It carries the distinct flowery perfume aroma of Petunia Evans.

“No, it's _unisex_.” Says Lily. “It's Petunia's, actually, but it looks much better on you.”

This compliment pleases Severus despite himself, and he stops trying to resist the scarf.

“There we are,” Lily says. “All set. Shall we?”

She opens the door and lets him pass her. She's about to leave too when she hears:

“ _Lily, keys!”_

And Lily quickly plucks them off the peg by the door before dashing out.

Outside, the suburban street is grey and cold and lifeless. The wind plucks at their coats and hair as they cut across a grassy park.

They pass an old, rusty playground— swings, a roundabout, a climbing frame and a slide. It's empty now, but they pick around it familiarly.

“Things at home alright?”

“Same.” He looks keen to avoid the subject, and she changes the topic.

“I heard they're putting in a new shopping centre in town, like the one in Leicester.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, that's what Petunia said. Only it won't be as big, but it's still exciting.”

“Exciting for you, maybe.”

She laughs. “Oh come on, Sev, aren't you tired of the same old shops? They've never got anything new, it's all terribly outdated. Do you want me to look like a grandmother?”

“You could never look like a grandmother,” Severus says honestly.

Lily grins. “Even if I was wearing my mum's tablecloth?”

“You'd look like a table.”

“Oh alright, that's just what every girl wants to hear, isn't it?”

“I didn't— I mean—"

“Oh, calm down, will you? I'm only giving you a hard time.”

He grins sheepishly, and she does too. They sit on the bus stop bench, legs almost touching…

* * *

Sirius leans out of his window, smoking a cigarette and enjoying the evening breeze on his face. Outside, the sun is beginning to set over London.

Sirius's room is disorganized, strewn with clothes and ashtrays and things being used as ashtrays, and even an empty liquor bottle or two. The walls, however, are cheerfully and defiantly decorated with Gryffindor scarves and Muggle posters of motorcycles and scantily clad women riding said motorcycles.

He sees two cloaked figures appear on the other side of the dark Islington street and frowns, leaning back so he isn’t spotted. There’s only one house on this street two such people could be calling upon— and sure enough, they hurry towards the door below him.

After a few moments, he hears an unearthly screech from elsewhere in the house.

_“SIRIUUUUUUS!”_

He ignores it, closing his eyes as the breeze whips his hair around his face.

“ _Sirius, NOW!”_

He just keeps smoking.

With a crack and a blinding flash of light, Kreacher appears in the room, a twisted grin on his face.

“Master Black is wanted down in the drawing room, sir.” He says. “At once.”

“Piss off, can't you see I'm busy?”

“I was ordered to fetch Master Black and to do whatever is necessary. We have guests, and Mistress says the whole family must be present.”

Sirius removes his head from the window so he can glare at Kreacher, his hand still dangling out. “I really couldn't care less. I'm busy.”

Kreacher snaps his fingers— the window slams shut, and Sirius removes his hand just in time.

“Watch it!” He says angrily.

Kreacher cackles. “The Mistress said at once.”

“Alright, alright, fine. Just get out of my room.”

Kreacher grins, then CRACK— he's gone.

Sirius sighs, then reluctantly scrapes himself off his bed and makes his leisurely way to his door.

The mounted heads of dead house elves stare creepily down at Sirius as he mopes down the staircase of the ancestral Black home. The interior is macabre, antiquated and in moderate disrepair. An oppressive gloom permeates everything around us, and it weighs on Sirius in a way he’s never known at Hogwarts.

He steels himself before entering the drawing room, where the walls are emblazoned with the Black family tree. Seated on aging sofas in desperate need of reupholstering is his cousin Bellatrix, accompanied by a man he doesn’t know. In an armchair is Regulus, and flanking him are the Black parents.

Orion Black is tall and handsome, all dark oiled hair and pencil-thin moustache. Walburga Black is thin, sallow, and severe. She does bear some of the Black family good looks, but they are twisted with hatred.

“Are you deaf as well as stupid?” Hisses his mother.

“Oh I could hear you alright,” says Sirius nastily. “I reckon they could hear your dulcet tones all the way in China. They probably thought there was a banshee attack on.”

Orion fumes, towering above him. “You will not talk to your mother like that in front of our guests.”

“Ooh, ever so sorry.”

“And put that filthy cigarette out,” snaps Walburga.

“This whole house is already filthy,” says Sirius, but he flicks it onto the ground and grinds it out with his foot.

Bellatrix is eyeing him beadily. “It's been a while, cousin.”

“Not long enough. Why are you in London, anyway?”

The man next to Bellatrix answers him: “We had business, and needed somewhere discreet to stay a couple of nights.”

“And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Says Sirius.

“This is Travers,” snaps Bellatrix. “And you ought to show him some respect.”

Sirius shrugs insolently. “No thanks, I'm alright.”

“Rude child,” sniffs Bellatrix. “You ought to take a lesson from your brother. Regulus knows how to respect his betters, and to speak only when spoken to.”

But Travers looks at him interestedly. “No matter. What year are you in, Sirius?”

“Fifth.”

“Ah. Do you play Quidditch on the team with Regulus?”

Sirius snorts with laughter. “'Course I don't. I don't play, and besides— I'm in Gryffindor.” There’s a note of pride in his voice, unmistakeably to everyone in the room.

Travers raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Oh. I see.” He says softly. “No wonder...”

“Yes, he's always been a difficult child.” Says Walburga apologetically.

“And despite how hard we've tried to quash it, it only seems to have worsened as he's grown older.” Agrees his father.

This gets a grin out of Sirius.

“Don't blame yourselves,” says Bellatrix, casting a glare at Sirius. “My sister is the same way. Running around consorting with Mudbloods and muggles and the like. Disgusting. And yet Narcissa and I are perfectly normal, just like Regulus. It's nothing to do with parenting, some fruit is simply destined to be rotten.”

“Yeah, well, can I go now?”

“Most certainly not,” snaps Orion. “You will apologise to your cousin and her, ah, companion.”

“I will not,” says Sirius. “I'm curious, though, Bellatrix, does dear old Rodolphus know you're sneaking around London with another man?”

Bellatrix hisses at him. “Don't be stupid, of course he does. It's business.”

“Right... well don't do your business on anywhere I'm likely to sit. You'll get filth on the... filth.”

He starts to laugh, but then suddenly starts choking, unable to breathe— Orion has his wand out, pointing at Sirius's throat. Bellatrix laughs gleefully and everyone else watches, impassively.

“I've heard quite enough from you,” says Orion. “You're coming with me.”

He drags his choking and gasping son out of the room, magically pulling him by the throat.

Outside in the hall, Orion pins Sirius up against a wall, still struggling for breath.

“How _dare_ you embarrass me that way? I ought to whip you senseless for your insolence. Apologise to me!”

He loosens the spell, slightly, and Sirius takes deep, ragged breaths before speaking.

“Fuck— you—"

Orion slams Sirius back against the wall, hard— once, twice.

“You can't imagine the shame you bring down upon this family. Prancing around like some jumped up, muggle-loving Nancy boy, running your mouth off as you please— I ought to teach you a lesson, one you won't forget so easily—”

He jerks his wand violently to the right— Sirius goes flying and crashes into the doorframe, skidding into the foyer and lying motionless.

Orion storms after him. He waves his wand and Sirius is lifted from the ground by his hair, as if held up by an invisible hand.

Blood is streaming down Sirius's battered face, and he has his eyes closed, trying to pretend he's anywhere but there.

“You can't even look at your own father?” Orion shouts, spittle flying from his mouth. “The man who gave everything he had to raise you?”

Sirius is mumbling something under his breath.

“What's that you're mumbling? Eh? Speak up!

Sirius's voice, though weak, grows gradually stronger and stronger.

“I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good. I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good. I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good. I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good.”

* * *

The bus deposits Lily and Sev on a bustling main. It's Saturday night and all the youth in the small town is out and about.

They hurry down the street towards the cinema, where a long queue has already formed.

“I hope there’s still good seats,” Lily moans as she pulls him towards it.

They enter the queue behind a group of older boys, much taller than them.

“Can you see if it’s moving?” Says Lily, craning her neck to see over the boys’ shoulders. One of them turns at the sound of her voice.

“Lily?” Says the boy. He’s a sandy-haired, good-natured Cokeworth lad of the sort Severus really finds deeply uninteresting. Lily’s face, however, lights up as she recognises him.

“Tommy! Tommy Lawrence!” She says delightedly. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to see the picture of course,” he says. “It’s s’posed to be well exciting, exotic adventure and all that.”

“Right,” she says, beaming.

“Listen,” he says. “My mates and I was going out for a drink later, d’you fancy it? You and—”

His eyes alight on Severus for the first time, and he doesn’t seem nearly as keen on him as he had been on Lily. Severus supresses a snort.

“Oh, this is my best mate Sev.” Chirps Lily. “Sev, this is Tommy Lawrence. He comes 'round to mow my lawn sometimes since my dad threw his back out. You remember. He went out with Petunia last year.”

The way she says 'Tommy Lawrence' is almost reverent, and Severus doesn't fail to notice this. He glares up at Tommy a bit spitefully.

Tommy shrugs self-consciously. “Only for an ‘alf second. Worst one of my life.”

She giggles madly. Sev's scowl darkens.

“Oh, right. Hiya.” He grumbles

“Alright?” Says Tommy, nodding at him in greeting.

“We’d love to go for a drink later,” says Lily, even though Sev feels as though he couldn’t love anything less.

Tommy grins. “Sorted then. We’ll meet here after the film shall we?”

Sev is relieved when the line finally starts moving, and they head up to the box for their tickets.

“Two for _The Man Who Would Be King_ , please.” Says Lily, counting out coins from her coin pouch. Severus says nothing as she pays for his ticket, knowing he won’t be able to pay her back. It’s simply an understanding; Lily’s muggle pocket money over the holidays is split between the two of them. Eileen gives him enough Wizarding gold— barely— to be able to manage during the year but Tobias would rather be subjected to the Cruciatus Curse than give his son even a measly 50p to see a film. Severus grins, imagining it.

“Come on, Sev!” Lily tugs him by arm to buy popcorn.

They rush to find good seats— Sev sees Tommy Lawrence and his mates picking their way across an aisle below. He steers Lily away quickly before she spots them.

“D’you really want to go to the pub with them?” Says Sev as they take a seat. He wrinkles his nose. “We’re not even supposed to be drinking yet, they’re older than us…”

“Oh come on Sev, it’ll be a laugh.” Says Lily. “Besides, I’m tired of being the good girl all the time. It’ll be fun, Tommy’s well nice, you’ll see.”

“But—”

The lights dim on the rest of his sentence.

“Shh, it’s starting!”

* * *

Sirius holds a bag of ice to his face, leaning against his bed and simmering with anger and pain.

He's holding the framed magazine clipping of the motorbike James gave him, looking at it. He wonders what James will do with the motorbike, now that they aren’t friends anymore… he was supposed to get it over Christmas, after all, but now that’s certainly not going to happen.

There's a soft knock at the door.

“Fuck off, Regulus.”

Sirius knows it’s him; only one person in that house actually bothers to knock at his door.

“I've only been sent to tell you to change for dinner,” says his brother through the door.

This seems so absolutely ridiculous to Sirius that he gets up and storms to the door, yanking it open to reveal his younger brother.

“Well you can toddle on and tell them I'm not going down there,” he snaps.

Regulus blinks impassively up at him. “You've got to. Or else Mother's going to start yelling again.”

“So? I don't care.” Says Sirius ruthlessly. “Let the bitch yell if she bloody well likes. Maybe she'll rupture a lung this time, that'd be a laugh.”

“That's horrid,” says Regulus unhappily.

“Don't tell me it wouldn't be at least a _little_ bit funny.”

“Why are you like this? Why can't you just be normal?”

Sirius laughs— roughly, it clearly still hurts to do so. “No, you don't understand. I'm the only one that's normal in this house. The rest of you, even the bleeding house elf, you're all nutters. You're all twisted. All of you. You think it's normal for daddy to smash me up whenever I say something he doesn't like? You think its normal the way Mummy yells?”

Regulus shrugs.

“Yeah, well, that's because you're just as fucking twisted as the rest of them. They've got to you, but not to me. And they never will. Even if they keep me trapped in this hellhole for the rest of my life.”

“If you hate it here so much, why don't you just leave?” Asks Remus.

Sirius looks at him for a long moment, thinking.

“I've got nowhere else to go, have I?” He says finally.

Regulus shrugs.“Then maybe you do belong here.”

This gives Sirius pause.

“Dinner'll be ready in an hour,” says Regulus. “Mother said to change. No muggle clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. I'll be down in a sec.”

Regulus nods and exits, scurrying away down the stairs.

Sirius looks around his room. After a second he snatches up the picture from his bedside table and pops open the picture frame, taking the magazine clipping from inside and shoving it into his pocket.

He then hurries out onto the stairs and bounds down them, taking them two at a time. He enters the master bedroom, where Orion and Walburga sleep in a regal four poster bed. The room is tidy, and Kreacher crouches in front of the fire, tending it to a steady flame.

Kreacher looks up at his entrance, eyes narrowing.

“Young Master Black, what is you doing here?” He croaks.

“Finally, there you are.” Says Sirius. “Aren’t you hearing the summons? My mother's having a fit downstairs because there's not enough drinks. Oh and hardly enough of those little sausages. Or the shrimp. Yeah, it's all a terrible disaster. Utter chaos. I reckon she might die of asphyxiation, it's quite funny actually.”

Kreacher's eyes go wide with panic and he apparates away with a loud crack.

Sirius knows there’s bound to be something Kreacher’s needed for downstairs, but he still doesn't waste a second— he starts flinging drawers open and rummaging through urgently.

Finally, he finds what he's looking for— his wand, resting at the bottom of a drawer along with some papers and cigar cases. He snatches it up.

He looks around, then pulls a strongbox out from under the bed. He tries the lock, but it doesn't open.

“Alohomora.”

It still doesn't work.

“Toujours pur.”

It springs open, revealing a modest pile of silver, jewels, and other precious items. _Stupid bastards_ , Sirius thinks viciously. He scoops out handfuls of jewellery and silver at random and shoves them deep into his pockets. When he's fit all he can, he leaves the room.

* * *

If Severus thought Tommy was bad, his mates are downright detestable. Downing huge frothing tankards of beer as if it was pumpkin juice, until they were red in the face and chanting unintelligible football anthems. They seem to feel an intense need to be the loudest in the pub, and unfortunately they have quite a job of it. Wizards, Severus thinks viciously to himself, would _never_ act like this.

Even Tommy seems a bit embarrassed by it all, perhaps for Lily’s benefit.

“Sorry about that lot,” he says. “Few pints of lager and they get a bit rowdy, like. D’you fancy getting another table, just us? I want to hear about what you’ve been up to, haven’t seen you in ages—”

“ _Ages_!” Agrees Lily.

The three of them relocate to a smaller table in the corner. Tommy seems to keep forgetting about and then remembering his presence, as if Severus is a pesky gnat rather than Lily’s actual friend. But Tommy pulls out a third stool for him all the same.

“Music's a bit naff, in’t it?” Tommy says.  

“Yeah, I think only Petunia actually listens to the Bay City Rollers.” Says Lily, and Tommy laughs.

“Right you are, Lily. I'll get us a round shall I— Severus, d'you want owt?”

“I'm alright, thanks.”

“You don't want one, Sev?

Her eyes are wide and eager; she brushes a strand of stray hair from her face.

Severus sighs. “Oh alright, go on then.”

“Good man. Back in a mo', don't go anywhere.”

He leaves to fetch drinks, and Lily turns excitedly to Severus.

“Can you believe we're here? Isn't it so exciting?” Lily says. “They’d never serve us in here if we was on our own.”

“I s'pose.”

Lily fails to notice his distinct lack of excitement. “Oh, and Tommy's ever so nice, isn't he? He's so... cool and interesting.”

“Really?” Says Severus haughtily. “I think he's a bit boring personally. He's a muggle after all.”

She frowns at him, and her tone is a little clipped. “And what's _that_ got to do with it?”

“It's not—” Severus frowns, starts again. “I just meant he's not part of our world, is he? He's never going to understand you and me, not really.”

“That hardly makes him boring,” says Lily. “I think he's really mature, not like all the boys at Hogwarts. And he's a proper gentleman. He’s always been so nice to me, not like Tuney’s other boyfriends. And he's really smart too, he's going to university next year and he knows all sorts.”

“What about, lawn mowers?”

Lily, affronted, opens her mouth to retort— but she's interrupted by Tommy setting three pints down in front of them.

“Alright, here ya are then.”

“Cheers Tommy!” Says Lily.

She takes a sip, and Tommy and Severus stare at each other suspiciously.

“So the two of ya go to the same school up north, then, is that right?” Says Tommy conversationally.

“Yeah, that's right.” Says Severus.

“Lovely. You're a Cokeworth lad then are ya?

“Yeah. I live down Spinner's End.”

“Oh alright. Don't get around there much, s'pose that's why I've never seen you.”

“S'pose it is,” mumbles Severus. He knows all too well why Tommy ‘doesn’t get around there much’.

Irritatingly, Tommy seems to actually be trying to be friendly towards him. Again, obviously for Lily’s sake. “What are you about then, Sev? You like footie?

Lily laughs. “Oh, no, Sev's not much for sports. He's more of an intellectual.”

“Oh alright, a braniac are ya?”

“No, I just do well at school is all.” Severus says. “I think sports are a waste of time.”

“Do ya?” Tommy says with a frown, turning away from him. “Lily, did you like the film?”

“Yes! I thought it was excellent—"

Severus can tell that Tommy doesn’t take him very seriously. He tunes out as they start gushing over the finer points of the film, listening instead to the syrupy, repetitive voice of the singer on the radio.

_…Give a little love, take a little love, be prepared to forsake a little love, and when the sun comes shining through, we’ll know what to do…_

“—Oh yes, I thought Sean Connery was absolutely _brilliant_ , although—”

Sev grips the handle of his glass and scowls bitterly at them.

* * *

The Blacks, Travers and Bellatrix are sitting around enjoying the aperitifs Kreacher is apologetically providing. Travers and Orion are smoking cigars.

“Once you're old enough, young Regulus, I rather think you'd do well in our line of business. Don't you agree, Bellatrix?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“A fine young gentleman you've raised, Orion.” Says Travers approvingly. “He'll make a great wizard one day.”

Regulus smiles softly.

At that moment, Sirius bursts in— still in Muggle clothes.

“Sirius, why didn't you change for dinner like I asked?”

“Did you?” Says Sirius innocently. “Regulus must've forgot to mention it, the little twerp.”

“No I didn't—"

Walburga glares hatefully at her son. “Regulus, ignore him. We know he's lying.”

“You like to wear Muggle clothes, do you, Sirius?” Says Bellatrix.

“Yeah I do, what about it?” Says Sirius. “Plenty of wizarding kids do it these days, even purebloods.”

Bellatrix sneers. “Not our kind of pureblood. You should know better than to let muggle filth touch your skin.”

“It's only denim,” says Sirius, plucking at it.

“I've never heard of it,” says Travers. “Muggles come up with the most ghastly things.”

Bellatrix’s lip curls in disgust. “You should have seen them all in the train this morning, packed in, swarming like vermin underground—"

Travers gives her a warning look and she shuts up.

“You were on the tube?” Sirius looks from one to the other suspiciously.

“Sirius, hold your tongue or I'll be forced to take you out in the hallway again.” Orion snaps.

Sirius ignores him. “What kind of business did you have in London, cousin?”

She only grins maniacally.

“Enough, Sirius.” Hisses Walburga. “Go back upstairs and change into something appropriate for dinner.”

Sirius rounds on her. “Nah, don't reckon I will.”

“You insolent little rat—"

“You shriveled old cunt,” says Sirius.

Bellatrix has her wand out. “I can make him learn some respect once and for all.”

Orion stands, fuming. “No,” he says. “He's our son, and we will take care of this. If you'd like to head to the dining room, we will join you shortly. I truly apologise for the scene my son is causing.”

“No trouble at all,” says Travers politely. Come on, Regulus, you can tell me about how you’re doing at school.”

Sirius stands proudly as Regulus, Travers and Bellatrix exit the room.

“You have defied us for the last time, brat.” Walburga says hatefully. “Your father ought to cut your tongue out for all the shame you've caused us tonight.”

“You will return to your room, and you will not come out.” Orion orders.

“I'd like to see you try and make me.”

Orion's eyes darken and he brings his wand down in a furious slash—

“PROTEGO!”

The force of the shield blasts Orion and Walburga back against the wall. They look at him, almost scared—they're not used to him being able to fight back.

“I'd rather die than spend another bloody night in this house,” spits Sirius. “I'm leaving, and I'm never coming back.”

“You've shamed this family—” Begins Walburga.

“This isn't a family,” says Sirius. “This is a depraved, shambling wreck, and you two are old relics who should've been decomposing in the ground a long time ago.”

“You—"

“Fuck you, dad.”

He pushes over a vase that sits on a pedestal on his way out— it falls to the ground and shatters into a million pieces. Walburga lets out a long, piercing wail.

Sirius hurries to the front door, then takes a final look back—

Regulus stands in the hallway, staring at him.

Sirius turns away from him, opens the door and leaves without hesitating— he slams the door behind him and the walls rattle.

* * *

Severus is on his own. Tommy and Lily have gone up to get more drinks— but they’ve been gone an awfully long time. Severus tries not to let his imagination run amok about what they could be doing— he’s just about to go looking for them when Lily and Tommy reappear,

“Sorry we left you all on your todd— got caught up. Er, here you are then.” Lily sets another pint glass next to his mostly-full one, and he notices she’s a bit pink in the cheeks. “Blimey, en't it hot?”

“I'm sort of cold actually,” says Sev.

“You alright mate?” Says Tommy. “You’ve barely touched your first one.”

“I don’t like the taste,” says Sev. The truth is he hasn’t drunk much alcohol, only the occasional goblin-made wine with his Slytherin friends. Mulciber and Rosier drink firewhisky, but when Severus had tried a glass it had burned his throat so badly that he hadn’t been able to finish.

Tommy claps him on the back. “Don’t worry, mate, it’s an acquired taste. You’ll get used to it.”

“I certainly hope not,” Snaps Severus. “I wouldn’t want to end up like you and your cave troll friends.”

Tommy is very taken aback by his rudeness, and Lily is not too impressed either.

“Sev, what on earth’s your problem? Tommy’s only trying to be nice.”

_It’s not all he’s trying to do_ , Sev thinks privately.

“Isn't it time you were off home, anyway?” Severus says bitterly. “Your mum's bound to worry, and then they'll blame me for it, won't they.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Oh, honestly. It's our night out, Sev, just try to be normal. Please.”

Severus has never felt less normal. Tommy’s looking at him like he’s absolutely mental.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Sev says sulkily. “I'm just… not feeling very well.”

“Oh, that's too bad, mate.” Says Tommy. “D'you want a glass of water or something?”

Tommy is at least a bit genuinely concerned, but Lily knows him well enough to know he's just being difficult.

“No. I don't need anything from a _Muggle_.”

Lily frowns. “Sev, I don't know why you've got such a cob on but you're being awfully rude. I'm sorry, Tommy, he's not usually like this—”

Severus scoffs.

“Look, mate, if you've got a problem...” Says Tommy, all semblance of goodwill towards him vanished.

“I haven't got a problem. I just—"

He implores Lily with his eyes.

“I don't like it here very much. It's too loud and I feel sick. I want to go home.”

Lily deliberates for a second and then sighs, closing her eyes. “Alright, then, fine. _Fine_. Let's go home. Tommy, I'm so sorry to just leave—”

Tommy smiles at her. “No worries, Lily, I'll see you soon anyway. You get home safe, you hear me?”

He shoots Severus a look slightly tinged with suspicion.

“Thanks, I will.”

There's an awkward beat and then she hugs him a little self-consciously— but he looks pleased. Severus has to look away.

Lily grabs Severus by the sleeve and pulls him through the crowd back towards the back entrance, not saying a word.

They exit into the street, and Lily rounds on him.

“I don't know what's wrong with you. You were acting like a child in there, and Tommy was only trying to be nice—”

“No he wasn't.”

Lily glares. “What are you on about?”

“Oh come on, Lily, isn't it obvious?”

“Isn't what obvious?”

Sev looks at her, beseeching, willing her to understand. “He's only being nice to you because he— because he wants—"

Lily crosses her arms, eyes narrowed dangerously..

“Because he wants _what_ , Sev?”

“He only wants to— to have— to shag you, alright?”

Lily starts, a little surprised, then scoffs.

“Oh alright, here we go. According to you, every bloke I ever so much as talk to wants to shag me. Let's see, shall we. Potter wants to shag me. Remus Lupin wants to shag me. Tommy Lawrence wants to shag me. I don't know what your problem is. Even if poor Tommy is interested in me, so what? Maybe I'm interested in him too.”

Blood pounds through his ears; it feels like he’s taken a bludger to the gut. “You— you are?”

“What does it matter?” Snaps Lily. “I'm allowed to make my own bloody decisions, aren't I? I don't need you protecting me from all these blokes you think are just waiting to pounce on me. Has it occurred to you that maybe Tommy's interested in me because he _likes_ me? Is that so hard to believe?”

“No— I don't know... do you really like him, then?”

Lily sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Oh, I don't know, do I? He's nice, I s'pose, and he's mature and all— but it doesn't really matter anyway, I can't exactly see him when I'm at Hogwarts. Besides, he's Petunia's ex, isn't he, and she'd have a fit.”

Severus's panic recedes a little. “Look, I'm sorry I was such a prat in there. I just... I don't think I’m very good at acting like a Muggle. Or a Wizard, come to think of it.”

Lily relents a little. “Don’t be so silly. I know it’s hard for you here, with everything. But not everyone’s out to get you, Sev. Just be yourself, and people will see you’re alright.”

“I don’t think people like me very much at all, to be honest.”

“Rubbish,” says Lily. “I like you, and others would too if you just got to know them. Now, what time is it?”

“Quarter to twelve,” says Sev, checking his watch.

“Oh, bollocks.” Lily says, biting her lip. “I was supposed to be home hours ago. Mum’ll go mental. I’ll be locked up for weeks.”

“I thought you were tired of being the good girl,” says Sev amusedly.

She gives him a look— half-exasperated, half-amused as well. “Well, I am. Doesn't mean I want to face the wrath of Mum. Sod it, I'll climb in through the bloody window. Come on.”

They start walking back to the main street.

* * *

A large, shaggy black dog wearily limps through a poorly lit tunnel strewn with graffiti and rubbish. He passes through a shadow—

—and Sirius Black emerges into the light. His face is still a wreck, and he’s more tired, hungry, and cold than he’s ever been in his life.

He walks into a strip of white tape printed with the word POLICE over and over— he looks at it, confused, then ahead.

He’s standing in front of the ruins of the Seven Sisters tube station, which has been completely torn to shreds…

He looks at it, finally putting the pieces together.

“Bloody awful, isn't it?”

Sirius turns to see a who spoke. A skinny, odd-looking youth drowning in a leather jacket stands spray painting a nearby wall.

“Yeah, I heard forty or so people died.” The youth says. “Really makes you consider your life, don't it? I take the tube sometimes. Could've been me.”

“Forty people?” Repeats Sirius slowly.

“Yeah, loads more were injured though.”

He shakes the can, finishes the last letter. Sirius frowns at the message:

THIS IS ONLY THE START.

“'This is only the start'... what's that s'posed to mean?”

“Means what it says, dunnit?”

He turns, and catches proper sight of Sirius.

“Cor blimey, mate, what the hell's happened to your face?”

“I tripped,” Sirius says, not bothering to sound convincing.

“Yeah, 'course you did. Fuckin' hell.”

“So you just go around spray painting ominous things wherever there's been a tragedy.

“I'm trying to incite here, mate.” Says the youth. “Get people thinking, and that.”

“Thinking about what?”

The youth gives him an odd look. “About the tragic state of our bloody society, what do you think? “hat's your name?”

“Sirius.”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be serious?”

“No, that's my name.” Says Sirius with a roll of his eyes. “Sirius Black.”

“What? That's a weird name.” Comments the youth, but he holds out his hand and Sirius shakes it. “Well, alright. I'm Miller. I live around here, for the moment anyway.”

“Only for the moment?” Asks Sirius.

“I go where I need to go,” says Miller mysteriously. “Say, you got a place to doss tonight? I've found meself a set up that's not half bad and I can share if you like.”

Sirius shrugs, knowing he has no better options. And there’s something oddly familiar about this scrawny street kid. “Well, alright. S'pose I haven't got anywhere else to go.”

Miller frowns sympathetically at him. “Come on then.”

He starts walking and Sirius hurries after him.

“Where'd you come from, then, Sirius? Sounds like it's somewhere nicer'n here.”

“Islington,” replies Sirius.

“Ooh, posh. How come you've left?”

Sirius points at his face.

“Fair enough,” says Miller. “Listen, I can't exactly help my natural curiousity but I won't ask no questions if you don't want me to. I know how it can be.”

“Yeah, I s'pose.” Says Sirius doubtfully.

They duck through a little tunnel and up a service ladder; ending up in a little raised alcove where Miller's got a mattress, a sleeping bag and random bits of junk and miscellany he's collected.

“Had your dinner yet?” Asks Miller, and Sirius’s stomach growls at the thought.

“No, I had to miss it.” He says.

“That's alright. Don't mind sharing for tonight. Sorry it's cold.”

Miller pulls a greasy, slightly old bag of chips towards them and sets it between them.

Sirius takes one and starts munching on it, too hungry to care what it is.

“Blimey, you must've been starved.” Says Miller. “Well help yourself mate, I'm a bit sick of chips meself honestly.”

He leans back against the wall and lights a cigarette.

“What are you doing out here on your own?

Miller shrugs. “Can't hardly remember now, let's see... yeah, I ran away when I was fifteen, or maybe they kicked me out. Can't quite recall. Maybe it was both. I've just been floating 'round since then, you know, sleeping where I can, saying what I've got to say when I've got to say it.”

“Why? Who's listening?”

“Maybe nobody, but it doesn't stop me.”

Sirius shivers visibly.

“You cold?” Says Miller shrewdly. “I'd give you my jacket but it's a sight more valuable than a bag of chips. If you've got anything to trade for it though...”

“Yeah, I've got a few things.”

“Go on then, empty your pockets.

Sirius does— Miller's eyes widen as he places the fistfuls of valuables on the ground between them. Finally, he places his wand and the picture of the motorcycle down.

“Christ, you haven't robbed a bank, have you?” Says Miller in awe, running his hands over the silver.

“No, I nicked it from my parents before I ran out.” Says Sirius, eyeing his family’s treasures in disgust. “Take it.”

“Well, why don't you take back whatever it is you don't want me to have.” Suggests Miller.

Sirius nods, takes his wand and the motorcycle, and pushes the rest towards Miller.

“Of all the things here, you want to keep a stick and a piece of paper? You're barmy, but I'm not complaining. Here you are then. A deal's a deal.”

He takes off his leather jacket and passes it to Sirius, who puts it on experimentally. It seems to fit him a lot better than it had Miller, and warmth envelops him instantly.

“Thanks,” he says. He’s never owned Muggle clothes like this before, only the plain jeans and shirt his parents had deigned to buy him.

“It suits you,” says Miller. He peers at Sirius. “You're not half bad under all of that, are you, Sirius.”

Sirius doesn’t know what to answer, so he shrugs.

Miller offers him the cigarette and Sirius takes a drag on it like a dying man before passing it back.

“S'pose I can try and hock it all tomorrow,” says Miller pensively. “Maybe buy myself a real camping tent and maybe some new paints. Say, you ever done any writing?”

“What, like essays and things?”

“Bloomin' 'eck, no, I mean on walls.” Says Miller, a spark lighting in his eyes. “It's the ultimate act of subversion, isn't it? You can find out a lot of hidden truths by reading what the people've been writing on the walls. There's no job more crucial to society than a vandal. We remind the upper crust that their actions have consequences.”

Sirius grins a little.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just remind me of someone, that's all.” Says Sirius.

“Well I hope it's someone good.”

“Oh it is.”

Miller puts out the cigarette.

“Well, don't know about you but I'm knackered. There's only one mattress so I hope you don't mind getting a bit cuddly. It's warmer that way, anyway.”

He flops onto the mattress, pulling the open sleeping bag over himself. When Sirius doesn't move, he twists and half sits up to look at him, holding the other end of the sleeping bag aloft.

“Well come on in then, don't be shy.”

Sirius crawls in next to him, and closes his eyes.

* * *

Lily and Severus are walking back across the park. In front of Lily's house, which is cheerily decorated with Christmas lights, they stop. Look at each other.

“Remember when you used to climb that tree outside my window at night and we'd talk about magic and Hogwarts for hours?”

Severus smiles. “Yeah, and then your dad was coming up and I tried to hide but I fell out of the tree and broke my arm.”

They laugh, reminiscing about times gone by.

“We used to have a lot of fun when we were kids, didn't we?”

“Yeah, we did.”

They walk towards Lily's house in silence, the unspoken knowledge that things have changed hanging between them.

“When did things get so hard?” Says Lily finally.

“I don't know. I s'pose we got older, didn't we? It always gets hard as you get older.”

“That's true. I can't help but miss those days, you know?”

“I miss it too,” says Sev softly. “It was simpler then.”

“Ah, c'mere you."

She grasps his arm, pulling them close together as they walk.

“Cokeworth never really changes though, does it?” Says Lily.

“No, not really. Still a stinking pisshole.”

A grin spreads over Lily's face and she laughs, hard and uncontrollable. After a second, he joins in, and they stand there, not able to contain their mirth.


	8. Some Fruit Is Just Born Rotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders feel Sirius's absence; Sirius considers life on the streets; Lily gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm soooo sorry for the slowness of this update, my last month at school was very busy and I've been travelling! I should have more time to work on this now though :) Thanks for reading.

The Potter Manor is a large, red-bricked country estate surrounded by sweeping lawns and well-trimmed hedges. It’s a frosty winter’s day, and the grounds are still.

The huge stately doors open— but only an incongruously small, adorable house elf with a button nose comes out. She straightens her little sack, then looks around.

She rounds the corner of the estate, and looks up— a pair of feet is dangling down over the edge a low roof directly above.

She smiles, then snaps her fingers and disapparates.

She reappears instantly on the roof next to James, who is sitting with his feet over the edge, smoking a cigarette. His broomstick lies next to him, as does a small wireless radio, which is bleating out the latest.

“... _following the attack on a Muggle train station in London yesterday morning, officials are now scrambling to mount a response to the growing crisis. Sources report a great deal of upheaval within the ministry itself, which_...”

James switches the radio off upon noticing her, and gives her a grin.

“I can never hide from you, can I Taffy?”

She shakes her head.

“Oh, it's just as well. Are my friends here already?”

She nods.

“Brilliant. Thanks, Taffy.”

She beams, and apparates away.

James shoves the little radio into his pocket, takes one last drag of the cigarette before putting it out and getting to his feet. He stretches, surveys his domain, and then mounts his broomstick and kicks off.

He spirals gently to the ground, dismounting effortlessly in front of the door. He enters, sets his broomstick against a wall and crosses the hall to the sitting room.

The interior of the manor is grand, but not very antiquated— this is a house purchased within the last century. There's a few portraits on the walls, and photographs, many of James at all stages of life.

James enters the spacious sitting room, which contains a large, richly decorated Christmas tree, a stone fireplace, and Peter and Remus. They have with them a wrapped parcel, and they turn eagerly at James's approach.

“James! There you are.” Says Peter.

“Hi, all, merry Christmas eve morning.” James greets them, pleased to see his friends. “Had your breakfast? I can have Taffy bring something out if you're peckish.”

“I am a bit now that you mention it. Remus?”

“I could eat,” says Remus.

James nods. “Alright then. Taffy?

Taffy appears with a crack.

“We'd like some breakfast, please.” Says James.

She nods and disappears again.

“Had a good holiday so far?” Asks Remus.

“Yeah, it's been alright. Bit boring, you know, the usual. I've mainly just been training. How about yours?”

James shrugs. “It's alright. Nice to see my parents again, relax a little.”

“Yeah, I reckon my mum likes having someone else around the house.” Says Peter. “She gets a bit lonely, you know.”

James nods in sympathy, then finally notices the package. “What's that?”

Peter and Remus look at each other.

“Well, you're always the one getting gifts for everyone else so this year we thought—”

“We decided to pool our efforts and get you something sort of special,” says Peter proudly.

“Oh, no, you shouldn't have. Honestly, you didn't have to.

“No, but we wanted to.” Says Remus. “You're a good friend, and it's time you had something to show for it.”

“Well, thank you.” James says, genuinely touched. “Both of you, I mean it. Here, I've got gifts for you as well, but you're not allowed to open them 'til tomorrow.

He hands them two differently shaped presents from under the tree.

“Course not,” says Peter, running his hands over his gift almost reverently. “Thanks, James.”

“Don't mention it.”

Just then, Taffy reappears with a tray of scones and jam and tea, which she sets on the little coffee table.

“Thanks Taffy!” Says Remus

“You're the best, Taff.” Adds James.

She grins widely at his praise and bows before disapparating. James feels that he has been as much raised by his parents as by the diminutive house-elf, who had been sacked from job after job due to her muteness before finding the Potters.

They sit down to breakfast, kneeling on the floor around the table.

“What did you get for Sirius?” Asks Peter innocently.

James and Remus stiffen immediately, unwilling to discuss the subject. Peter steamrollers ahead determinedly.

“Oh, come on. We can't pretend he doesn't exist forever, can we?”

“Fine by me,” Remus says curtly.

“Remus, I know he—"

“You _don't_ know,” Remus snaps.

James and Peter look at him, a little worried. It's not like Remus to snap. They watch him as he spreads jam perfectly evenly on his scone with great concentration, not missing a spot.

James sighs heavily. “Look, Peter, even if we wanted to contact him, he doesn't want to talk to us. He hasn't returned my owls, I doubt he's even opened—"

“Aha!” Crows Peter triumphantly, raising a finger. “So you have been owling him, then?”

James is caught; he looks guiltily at Remus. Remus avoids his gaze.

“Yeah, it's— I just worry about him when he's in that house is all. It's— it's just not a good place for him, you know that. He used to just come here when things got really bad, but this time— and I know he's too bloody proud and stubborn—”

James sighs and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

“I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do.”

“I miss him,” says Peter quietly. “It's not the same without him.”

James nods in agreement. “No, it—”

But Remus interrupts him. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe we're better off?”

“How can you say that? He's still our friend.” Says Peter indignantly.

Remus shrugs mercilessly. “He's unstable and reckless. And James, I think he makes you into a worse person than you really are.”

James doesn't reply to that, he looks down at the ground. Peter, however, mounts a passionate defence.

“So what? None of us are perfect, are we? That doesn't mean we ought to give up on Sirius just because he's made a mistake.”

“A mistake that nearly cost me everything!” Remus says angrily. “He used me to try and _kill_ someone, Peter. He doesn't care about me, he doesn't care about any of it— I'm not a friend to Sirius, I'm a murder weapon.”

“That's not true,” says James suddenly.

“How do you know?”

“Sirius is a good person, he just... he's a product of his circumstances, isn't he? We all are.”

“That's not an excuse.”

“I'm not saying it is. All I'm saying it, you've had it bad, but so has he. All those times he came through that fireplace—” James points at it. “—with his face all busted up trying to act like he didn't give a damn, he did though, didn't he? That's what Sirius does, isn't it, he acts like he doesn't care about things but he does. We mean the world to him, we're all he has. He's got nothing out there."

Remus looks down at his lap. Despite himself, despite the hard ball of tightly knotted anger in his chest, he sees truth in what James is saying. He can’t not.

“Look,” continues James. “I know he cocked up, and you don't have to forgive him, at least not right away. But I can't abandon him. I just can't.”

“Me neither,” Peter says. “It's Christmas, Remus, come on. Have a heart.”

Remus sighs. “Yeah, you're right. I think I... I think I just need some time.”

James nods. “Fair enough,” he says. “I just wish we could talk to him. I can't do anything if he won't reply my owls, can I? Who knows what he's going through right now...”

* * *

In the alcove above the street, a cold shaft of sunlight shines down on the mattress where Sirius is sleeping.

Sirius stirs to life just as a blurry form steps over him, and a heavenly smell wafts into his nostrils.

Miller crouches down next to him and grins into his face.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.” He says cheerily. “Coincidentally, that's what I've got for us this morning.”

He swings a paper bag in front of Sirius like a pendulum. Attracted by the smell of food, Sirius sits up properly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He winces as his hand rubs against still-fresh cuts and bruises.

Miller gives him a sympathetic look. “We had better get you cleaned up soon, hadn't we? I can't take you anywhere looking like you've snogged a liquidiser.”

“Snogged a what?”

“A liquidiser, innit.”

He takes Sirius's chin between thumb and forefinger and tilts his face left, then right, inspecting. For some reason, Sirius feels his breath hitch at the contact.

He swallows past his suddenly very dry throat. “Been up long?” He croaks.

“'Couple of hours maybe. Hocked a few of the pieces you gave me, enough for some proper nosh and some new paints. Look, this one's for you.”

He rummages in his rucksack, hands Sirius a long, cylindrical can.

“Thanks,” Sirius says, looking at it curiously.

“It’s spray-paint,” Miller says, amused at Sirius’s bewilderment. “Red's a good colour to start with. It's bold, it's eye-catching- it's provocative. You seem like a red.”

“What, 'cause I've got it all over my face, you mean?”

Miller laughs. “Well at this point it's really more like brown. Come on, eat your brekkie and we'll get you cleaned up.”

As Sirius tears into his bacon and egg sandwich, Miller takes a packet of cotton balls and a bottle out of his rucksack.

“I popped by Boots,” he says.

“Uh...alright.” Sirius mumbles, not having any clue what that could mean.

He finishes his sandwich, looking regretful that it's all gone.

“That was quick. Alright, let's have a look at you then. Hold still.”

He pours out a little of the bottle onto the wad of cotton and starts dabbing at the dried blood that still cakes Sirius's face. It immediately starts stinging madly— Sirius grimaces and tries not to move.

“Is it really bad?” He asks through gritted teeth.

Miller peers at him. “Nah, I don't reckon so. It just looks bad is all. Does it hurt?”

“Stings a little when you put that on me.” Sirius says. “What is that stuff?”

Miller frowns. “You've never seen it before? It's alcohol, but you can't drink it. Not unless you're really desperate. It's for sanitising. What do you usually do when you get hurt?”

“Well, I s'pose I... I don't know. I don't get hurt much usually.”

“You sure about that?” Asks Miller, eyeing him beadily.

Sirius says nothing.

“Oh look, there you are. There's a real human being under there after all.” Miller says as he gently wipes away the last of the grime under Sirius's eye. “Still a few scrapes and bruises, but they'll heal.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says. His newly sanitised face smarts in the cold, but Miller’s jacket is surprisingly warm.

“Yeah, don't mention it. Right then, come on. Up you get.”

He jumps to his feet and Sirius stands up too, a bit more wearily.

“Where're we off to?”

“Work,” says Miller, grinning wickedly in a way that reminds him of someone, someone Sirius would rather not think about. So he follows Miller down the street, hands in the pockets of his new jacket.

* * *

In the Evans’ sitting room, a television displays a news broadcast— a BBC reporter is talking into a microphone, standing in front of a blurry London street.

Lily and her parents are sitting on the brown settee. Graham is watching the telly with concentration, and Lily is staring but not really seeing it. Rosalind is knitting. In the corner, a modest Christmas tree glows cheerily, lower boughs nestled with presents.

 “There owt else on?” Says Rosalind.

Graham harrumphs. “So what if there is, I'm watching this, en't I? It's important to keep informed about current events.”

“Oh but current event are always so awful, en't they?” Rosalind says. “Sometimes you just want to switch off the telly and forget about it all, don't you Lily?”

Lily is shaken out of her reverie. “Sorry?”

“I said that sometimes you just want to forget everything horrible that's happening in the world, don't you?”

Lily frowns. “Oh yeah, I s’pose, sometimes.”

“Like this, for instance. Fourty people, died in an explosion at a station in London? It's just too horrible, isn't it? And they've no idea what did it. Last time I ride one of them trains.”

Lily frowns at the telly.

Petunia enters, looking steamed. She sits down angrily besides Lily.

“What's eating you then, Petunia?

“Apparently Tommy Lawrence— my _boyfriend_ — was at the pub last night with some slag."

Lily has to fight to contain a grin. “He's not your boyfriend anymore, is he though? He broke up with you end of last summer.”

Petunia glares at Lily through watery eyes.

“Now, Lily, your sister's still allowed to be upset. The heart can take a long time to heal.”

“Who saw him?” Lily asks casually, brushing past this.

“My mate Janice,” says Petunia. “She says she didn't recognise the girl, only that she had boys fawning over her all night and she looked like an absolute skank.”

Lily, despite the rudeness of this, is a little pleased with herself.

Rosalind hums disapprovingly. “Well, we don't need to be talking like that, do we?”

“Yeah, Tuney, what happened to feminism?”

“That hairy leg nonsense of yours doesn't exist in real life, Lily.” Says Petunia nastily. “Normal people haven't got any use for it.”

“Just because you're such a dull old fashioned cow—” Lily begins in outrage, but their mother interrupts.

“Alright, pack it in, both of you!”

Lily and Petunia glare at each other resentfully, but say nothing more.

Just then the doorbell rings, and Rosalind gives them both a warning look before leaving the room.

“You—” Lily starts.

“Lily, your mother said to pack it in.” Graham interrupts this time, dragging his eyes wearily away from the telly.

Lily shuts up again.

“Lily, it's for you!” Calls Rosalind from the hall.

Still glowering at Petunia, Lily goes to the door.

Sev is standing in the hallway, hunched awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

Lily lights up excitedly at seeing him. “Oh, hiii-ya!”

“Severus here was telling me about the film you saw last night.” Rosalind chatters. “Long one, wasn't it? I didn't even hear you coming in.”

“Yeah, well, all these adventure films are always hours long, aren't they?”

“I wouldn't've thought you'd go in for that sort of thing, Lily.” To Sev, she says: “She usually likes glamorous movies, doesn't she?”

“Well, I like all sorts.” Lily says. “And it was well class, wasn't it? Lots of drama.”

She smiles at Sev, their private joke.

“Yeah, it was alright.” He says, smiling back.

“I see,” Rosalind says, obviously sensing the impenetrable double meaning and trying to bring things back to familiar territory. “Fancy a mash, Severus? I was just about to put the kettle on.”

“That'd be lovely, Mrs. Evans, ta.”

“Of course, dear.” She nods pleasantly, making her way to the kitchen.

“I brought you something,” Severus says as soon as she’s gone.

He hands Lily a small, messily wrapped package. She takes it, beaming.

“Wow, thank you so much, Sev! I've got something for you too, hang on.”

She scurries back through the sitting room to grab his present from under the tree. Severus follows her, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Hiya Severus, you alright?” Says Graham, looking up.

“Yes, thanks Mr. Evans.”

Petunia ignores him very pointedly.

Lily returns, pulling the door shut behind her and handing him her gift; something flattish and lumpy.

“Thanks, Lily!”

Lily beams. “Would you like to open it now or tomorrow?”

“I reckon I'll save mine for tomorrow. At least there's one reason to look forward to Christmas day.”

Lily squeezes his hand sympathetically. “It's one day closer to going back to Hogwarts, isn't it?”

“That's true,” says Sev, grinning. Lily always manages to make things seem brighter.

“Well, I think I'll open mine now.” She says. “I can't wait another day, I simply _have_ to know.”

He waits apprehensively as she struggles to open it.

“Blimey, how much cellotape did you use?” Lily says, picking at it. “It's like the whole thing is cellotape.”

“Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly.

“Alright, got it. It's—”

She holds the two objects up as the last of the wrapping paper falls away. It's two little potion bottles— one shimmery blue, the other bright orange.

“Oh, it's beautiful, what is it?”

 “Focus potion. A few drops on your tongue and you'll be able to concentrate on anything you put your mind to. I thought, with OWLs coming up...”

She draws her gaze away from the bottles to look at him admiringly. “Oh, that's brilliant, Sev, thanks! What's the other one?”

“Well, it's a bit experimental. I modified the original Draught of Relaxation so that it doesn't make you into a totally useless lump. It's a de-stress potion, basically. There's a general OWLs theme, I s'pose.”

Lily looks very impressed indeed, and Severus wishes he could bottle that feeling as well.

“You made these? You're absolutely incredible, I've no idea how you do it.”

He enjoys the praise, and the surprise hug she gives him.

“You've got to come over tomorrow after tea and tell me what you thought of mine, alright?”

“Definitely.”

They sit on the stairs, and Lily grows thoughtful.

“Did you see the news today? About that explosion in London yesterday? I think it might've been wizards.”

Sev looks at her. “You didn't see in the Prophet?”

“Nah, I forgot to renew my subscription. What is it?”

“It was... well they’re saying it was, you know, Death Eaters. Supposedly, anyway.”

“Christ...” Lily winds a hand through her hair worriedly.

“Yeah, well, Harold Minchum has officially replaced Jenkins as Minister for Magic, and they say first thing he's doing is putting more dementors in Azkaban.”

Lily turns this over, troubled.

* * *

Miller and Sirius duck under a bridge, and Miller comes to a stop before a relatively empty stretch of wall.

“Alright, go on, then, write something.” He says.

 Sirius frowns down at the can he’s holding. “What, just—”

“Try it first so you get a feel for it.”

Sirius does, spraying an experimental spiral of red on the ground. “Oh, alright, I think I've got it.”

He contemplates the wall, then nods.

“You thought of something?” Asks Miller.

Sirius nods again, starts spraying an I— as Miller talks.

“We had better be quick about it, though, I've had a few close shaves with the law of late...”

Sirius stops spraying. “You mean the muggle police?”

“The what police? Never heard that one before. But yeah, they don't seem to appreciate my contributions to the public sphere very much.”

“Wonder why,” Sirius says, biting his tongue in concentration as he traces large letters.

“Yeah, not a clue. What's that you've wrote, then?”

Sirius admires his handywork— in bright red lettering on the brick wall.

I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I'M UP TO NO GOOD.

“I like it. It's original.” Miller says, lighting a cigarette, the spark of the lighter briefly splashing the walls with light.

“It's just something my mates and I used to say,” mumbles Sirius. “Stupid, really.”

Miller eyes him critically. “Where are these mates now, then?

Sirius shrugs. “Don't really care, honestly.”

“You sure about that?”

He nods at the wall.

“S'pose not,” says Sirius begrudgingly.

“I'm sure they're worried about you, aren't they?”

“I don't know. I'm not sure we're even still friends. I made a mistake, and it was really awful. Not certain I can ever come back from it, to be honest.”

Miller sits down against the wall, motioning that Sirius should join him. They share the cigarette companionably.

“Well, I've made my fair share of mistakes meself. I suppose that's why people like you and me end up squatting in a piss-soaked alley rather than cosy in a home with wife and kids, innit.”

Sirius makes a noise of disgust, and Miller grins.

“But let's have it then, what did you do?”

Sirius sighs, picking his way around the subject carefully. “It was just a stupid prank. Someone we hated, and he almost got really hurt. Could've died, I suppose. But my friend, Remus— he was involved without realising it, and he didn't appreciate being part of it.”

“Sounds like maybe he felt a bit used.”

“I didn't think of it that way before,” Sirius says worriedly. “Well, I s'pose they all saw me for who I am, didn't they? I'm not like them. It's that damn house... I thought I escaped it, but deep down I'm just as twisted as they are.”

“You mean your family?” Says Miller shrewdly.

“Right. Maybe some fruit is just born rotten.”

“That's rubbish,” Miller says. “At least not what I've seen. Everyone can change themselves. Most of the time, it's all we've got the power to do, isn't it? I've got no power to change my circumstances, only what I do when I'm in them. You’ve done the same, haven’t you? Someone did that to your face and you left, didn't you? And now we're both here in this piss-soaked alley. That's something, innit.”

Sirius turns it all over. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“You're alright, Sirius. I could just tell when I saw you, you're alright.”

“Thanks,” says Sirius quietly.

Miller moves a lock of hair out of Sirius's face.

“About your friends...” He says. “They'll either forgive you or they won't. You’ve got to forgive yourself though, at some point, otherwise it’s not worth going on.”

Sirius looks at him. “You're awfully wise for a...”

“A street punk?” Miller finishes with a grin. “Anyone ever told you you're awfully stupid for a posh boy?”

“You'd be surprised.”

Miller laughs a little, then leans forward and kisses Sirius gently on the corner of the mouth. It's so quick that Sirius doesn't even have time to react.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Don't be,” says Sirius.

Miller eyes him thoughtfully, then kisses him again, a little deeper, a little longer.

* * *

James is on the roof again. He holds a small mirror, peering into it with concern.

“Sirius Black,” he says.

Nothing happens. James stares down at his own reflection. He bites his lip.

“Sirius Black!”

Nothing again.

“Stupid, stubborn wanker.”

He stands suddenly, seemingly having made up his mind about something.

“Taffy?”

The house elf appears with a crack.

“Tell my mum and dad I'm going to London,” James says determinedly. “I'll be back once I've found Sirius.”

She looks alarmed, shakes her head frantically, but before she can try and stop him, he mounts his broom and kicks off, soaring into the sky.

* * *

Miller is rolling up his sleeping bag. Everything else has already been packed away into a rucksack. Sirius helps him, kneeling down on one end to hold it steady.

“There we are... all set.”

He wraps a cord made from tied-together shoelaces around it, ties it to the rucksack.

“Best if we get a move on,” says Miller. “They won't even let us have a rest on Christmas.”

He hops down onto the street. Sirius follows him down, and together they head into the tunnel.

“Where to?

“I know a place—" Miller stops. “Shit. They’ve been waiting! We’d better scram!”

“Wh—”

Torchlight rakes the tunnel; Miller grabs Sirius's arm.

“This is the police, don't move!” Yells a voice.

Miller shakes him urgently. “Run, and don't stop. Not even for me.”

“What, but—”

“Just go!

They race from the tunnel into a residential side alley, but Sirius is still limping and he's not as fast as he should be. Every step forward is an agonising struggle, until he is suddenly shoved sideways into some bushes— he crashes through them down into an embankment.

“Sorry,” yells Miller from above. “But I've got more of a chance of out running them- I'll see you again, I know it!

Sirius struggles to get up but he feels he is paralysed— he sees Miller running full tilt down the street, and reaches out a hand to try and get to him—

“Stop, you!” Bellows a policeman from behind.

“Oi pigs, catch me if you can then!” Yells Miller, now out of Sirius’s sight. The heavy footfalls of the police echo around the tunnel as they chase after him.

Sirius groans and scrapes himself up out of the ditch, peering around. Miller and the police are long gone.

He gets to his feet, brushes what leaves and mud he can off himself, then heads for the main street. He ducks into the first business he sees, a Caribbean restaurant on the corner. He peers around. Inside it’s a cheery affair, brightly but simply decorated. There's only one other customer, an old lady waiting for her order who stares at Sirius in horror.

At the counter is a young lady obscured by the glossy magazine she is reading.

Sirius approaches the counter.

Without lowering the magazine, the girl at the counter speaks to him.

“Merry Christmas, takeaway only today.”

When Sirius speaks, it is a croak. “Excuse me... may I have some water please?”

She lowers it, eyes widening in shock and recognition— and Sirius stares right back.

“Oh, what the fuck?” Says Mary.

* * *

Lily is lying back on her bed again, and a Bowie tune is playing out loud.

Sev is lying on the rug parallel to her, and they both stare up into David's multicolour eyes.

“Petunia called me a slag this morning,” says Lily conversationally.

“Your sister's a cunt.”

“Oi!”

She doesn't say it with much fervour, though.

“Well, it's true though, isn't it?” Says Sev.

Lily sniffs. “She is a bit of a mardy arse, isn't she. But she didn't do it on purpose, that's the thing. Her mate Janice saw me and Tommy the other night.”

Severus could not care less about this. “Oh... she did?”

“She didn't recognise me, don't worry.” Lily reassures him, as if it were his greatest concern. “All she said was I looked like a skank. And I said, what's happened to feminism? And Petunia said, feminism doesn't exist in real life, can you believe that?”

Sev snorts. “Well, it is sort of...”

But Lily is onto him like a hawk. “Sort of what?”

He shrugs, not wanting to say what he truly thinks. “Well, there aren't any wizarding feminists, are there?”

“Well, there's me for starters.” Lily says defensively. “And Mary. I bet there's loads more as well.”

“Oh I doubt it,” says Severus pensively. “It's all just a bit silly, isn't it?”

She sits up to look at him, affronted, and opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Lily? Phone!” Yells her mother.

Lily gets up to open the door, revealing her giggly mother.

“You have a gentleman caller,” Rosalind says.

 “What? Who is it?

“I don't know, but he was putting on a funny accent, I think so I wouldn't recognise him. Odd, i’nt it?”

Lily turns to grin excitedly at Severus, who doesn't look nearly as enthusiastic. “Nevermind that. I'll get it. Won't be a mo’, Sev.”

She hurries down the stairs and to the phone, which is on the wall near the kitchen entrance. She unhooks the receiver and pulls the cord with her into the toilet, locking the door behind her. She sits on the toilet seat, pulling the phone up to her mouth,

“Hello?” Lily says.

“Good day, madam.” Says Tommy in a strange voice, deep and posh

Lily giggles, drawing her legs up onto the toilet seat. “I'm sorry, who is this?”

“It's uh… Sean Connery speaking, madam.”

“And how ever did you get my telephone number, Mr. Connery?”

Tommy coughs. “A… young man gave it me. Handsome fellow. Name of Tommy Lawrence.”

Lily laughs at this too, wrapping the phone cord around her finger. “Oh, right, I know him. So then, why'd you call, Mr. Connery?

Tommy laughs, dropping the accent. “For starters, I wanted to make sure you got home alright.”

“Well I did, obviously.” Says Lily, touched. “Though Petunia almost bit my head off this morning.”

“Can't have that. It's an awfully pretty head.”

Lily has to move the phone away from her to press a hand to her mouth. When she speaks again, it's all casual. “Well, any other reason?”

“Yeah,” says Tommy. “I called to say have a good Christmas... and I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Oh... really?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I thought you ought to know— I fancy you, Lily. I know you're going off to school soon enough and all. But I thought you should know. All this time, I reckon I had the wrong Evans sister.”

Lily feels her heart give a great leap.

* * *

Outside the restaurant, the street is dark.

Mary flips the sign from 'open' to 'closed', then turns as Sirius ambles out of the backroom, pulling a mop and bucket behind him.

“Thanks for helping me close up.”

“Least I could do,” Sirius says, pushing his hair out of his face.

Mary gives him an amused look. “Yeah, well, good thing it's the holidays tomorrow. Mum would throw a fit if she knew I was letting you kip here. Especially if she saw you looking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like shite,” says Mary.

“Oh, thanks very much.” Sirius says sarcastically.

“Where'd that jacket even come from?”

Sirius tugs at the sleeve, feeling a hint of pride. “I traded for it.”

She laughs. “Quite street, aren't you? Does Potter even know where you are?”

“I don't care what James knows, to be honest.” Says Sirius, instantly souring again.

“Aww, lover's quarrel?”

Sirius glowers at her, clearly needled by this remark. He dips the mop into the sudsy water, then wrings it out in the basket.

“Shut up,” he snaps.

“Oh come on, Black. You two are best mates, you'll sort it out.”

“What, like you and McKinnon have sorted it out?”

Mary gives him a dirty look. She's counting out money now as Sirius passes the mop abstractly back and forth across the floor.

“What?” Says Sirius at her silence. “Don't look at me like that, you know I'm right. Sometimes people cock up so badly they don't deserve forgiveness.”

“And you think James doesn't deserve forgiveness?” Mary asks curiously.

Sirius looks down at the shiny floor. “Not— it’s me that doesn’t deserve it.”

“So what are you going to do, just crawl pitifully around London until the holidays end, then what? You'll have to see your mates at Hogwarts.”

“Who says I'm going back to Hogwarts?”

“Have you gone mental? Of course you're going back to Hogwarts.”

Sirius stops mopping and wipes his forehead. “I don't know. Why not take my chances in the muggle world?”

“Uh, because you're not a muggle, are you?”

“I reckon I'd be alright at it,” says Sirius defensively.

Mary laughs. “Oh come off it, Black, you'd be the worst muggle I'd ever heard of.”

“Cheers,” he grumbles.

“Look, I'm going to owl Potter tonight.” Mary says. “If he comes to get you, you'll know he's forgiven you. If not, you can go wherever you'd like. We'll see how long the pampered little pureblood prince lasts out in the big bad world.”

“I'm not pampered.”

“Don't make me laugh,” says Mary, closing the till.  “Alright, that's me done. I'm locking the front door, but you can let James in through the back when he gets here. Just bolt it shut when you leave or Mum will have my arse.”

“He won't come.”

“If you say so,” says Mary. “See you at school.”

“You won't.”

She starts to leave, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, Mary—” He calls after her, and she turns. “Thanks.”

Her gaze softens on him. “You're welcome.”

“You know, McKinnon’s not a bad person.” He says. “Anyone can cock up and be out on their arse as a result.”

Mary eyes him thoughtfully.  “Merry Christmas, Black.”

She leaves, and he hears the jingling of the doorbell and the rattling of the keys.

Sirius is alone. He turns and walks into the back. He grabs a loaf of bread off a shelf and opens it, starts tearing into it.

He sees Mary's magazine on a table— he picks it up, flops down against some sacks of rice and starts flipping through it idly.

Within minutes, it falls from his grasp— he's fast asleep.

* * *

Sev has been waiting a while, growing increasingly irritated. Bored, he starts to poke through Lily's things.

He moves aside a Gryffindor scarf, Chocolate frog cards, and other paraphernalia.

He brings a blouse to his face and inhales deeply.

He makes eye contact with the cat, who is watching him suspiciously.

“Don't give me that look,” he says to it.

Just then, the door opens and Sev flings the blouse away with lightning speed as Lily re-enters the room, looking dazedly happy.

“Who was on the phone?

“Tommy,” says Lily, beaming. “He wanted to check if I'd got home safe. Isn’t that sweet of him?”

“Couldn't he just have asked your mum?”

Lily gives him a confused look, flops on her bed as before. “Oh it's almost too bad I'm going back to Hogwarts, Tommy's ever so dreamy. Maybe I could take him with me. I bet he'd love it there.”

This only exacerbates Sev’s foul mood. “Don't be stupid, Muggles can't go to Hogwarts.”

At the nasty edge in his voice, Lily sits up. “I know that. I was only joking.”

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a while. The record clicks to a stop. Severus takes this as a cue, and gets to his feet.

“Well, I should probably—"

“Right. It's getting dark. I didn't realise how long I'd been talking, sorry.”

“Don't be.”

She gives him a forced-cheery smile. “Well, I'll see you after Christmas, yeah? Don't forget your present.”

Severus picks it up. Heads for the door.

“Merry Christmas, Sev.”

Sev doesn't believe it, but he gives her a soft: “You too.”

He leaves, closing the door. Lily stares at it, unsure. Things do not seem to have healed quite as well as they'd been pretending.

* * *

James flies worriedly over the streets of Islington, eyes peeled.

Wind buffets him and condensation builds up on his glasses— he has never been this mind-numbingly cold in his life, despite his warm clothing.

He spots something in the distance, speeds ahead.

* * *

It's early morning, still dark. A few snowflakes tumble downwards into the empty London street.

Nothing happens for a few moments, then—

CRACK! Alice apparates into view. Another crack resounds through the quiet street and she is joined by Frank.

Alice rubs her hands together to keep warm. “Not the best way to spend Christmas eve, is it?” She remarks wryly.

“Oh, I don't know.” He says. “It's snowing, it's peaceful. And you're here with me.”

She looks at him with affection. “You great sap.”

“I'm not denying it.”

“I just wish it wasn't so bloomin' cold.”

Frank reaches into his pocket and takes out a glass jar. This he tosses into the air; it spins gently, levitating between them. He waves his wand and a blue flame flickers into life inside it.

Alice extends her palms towards it appreciatively.

“I see you came prepared,” she says.

“Ready for anything, me.”

No sooner has he finished speaking than a flash of green light blazes through the sky, illuminating the clouds. Alice looks up just in time to see a dark shape fall from the sky. She thinks it looks like a body, but that’s too strange—

The jar drops to the ground and shatters as Frank and Alice whip out their wands and race around the corner.

“By order of the minister for Magic, drop your wands!” Alice shouts.

Two dark-robed, masked figures are standing over the body of a wizard, spread-eagled on the ground. Next to the body is a broomstick.

The figures turn to look as the two Aurors come tearing down the street towards them. The shorter of the two Death Eaters, who appears female, readies herself to fight, but her companion yanks her away— they start running.

Alice and Frank give chase, firing beams of red light towards their quarry, which the Death Eaters deflect easily. The man levitates a nearby car into their path.

Frank clambers over the hood as Alice goes around; she helps him down and they continue after the Death Eaters. They turn a corner, and their quarry is nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking hell, we lost them.” Says Frank, panting.

“You looking for those nutters in the masks? They went that way.”

A muggle youth stands by a wall, one hand pointing down an alley and the other clutching a can of spray paint.

“Thanks,” says Alice.

“This some sort of religious thing?” Asks the youth.

Frank and Alice look at each other.

“Obliviate,” says Frank

The Muggle's face goes blank; as Frank and Alice take off Alice sees what he's written on the wall: In giant letters, "SERIOUS". But she doesn’t have time to think about it.

The Death Eaters have come to a halt at a brick wall— it's a dead end. Cornered, they turn and face their pursuers.

“Nowhere left to run,” says Alice.

“It's you who should be running, Auror scum.” Snarls the woman.

She fires a curse; Alice deflects it and it smashes against the brickwork.

The duel begins in earnest, Frank and Alice pressing the Death Eaters further and further into the corner.

Alice sweeps her wand in a wide arc and sends the rubbish bins flying: rubbish explodes out over the Death Eaters. The woman shrieks with wild rage.

“Petrificus totalus!” Alice yells.

The female Death Eater goes stiff as a board and keels over.

The man glances her way, knowing he's outnumbered.

He raises his wand high— a sonic wave pulses from the tip, high pitched enough to smash glass nearby and force Alice and Frank to duck and cover their ears.

There’s a loud crack— the Death Eaters have gone..

Frank and Alice are left once again alone in the quiet street, breathing hard, staring at each other.

They head back to the body, and when they reach him Frank turns him over. Alice feels a horrible jolt of recognition.

“Dearborn... oh no...”

She looks at Frank and he looks back at her, haunted.

* * *

Light filters in through the high window of the pantry, striking Sirius across the face. Suddenly, there's a pounding on the door and he yawns widely, stirs to life.

“Sirius! You in there?”

Sirius comes fully awake, blinking in the light.

“Sirius, I know you can hear me.”

Sirius gets to his feet, opens the back door.

James is standing there, windswept, broom in hand, Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck. He lights up at the sight of Sirius.

Sirius takes him in, not sure what to say.

“Hey,” he says.

“ _Hey_?” James repeats incredulously. “Where’ve you been? You look like absolute rubbish.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says, and means it.

James looks at him with great affection, then pulls him into a hug. Sirius relaxes, burying his face in James's shoulder.

They separate, James still gripping his shoulders.

“Didn't think you were going to spend Christmas alone, did you?

Sirius shrugs. He had.

“Come on then, it's almost lunchtime.”

“Thanks for coming,” Sirius says again.

“Don't be stupid.”

Sirius laughs a little.

“I was out all day and night looking for you,” says James. “Couldn't find your house, obviously. Lucky I flew right into Mary's owl on the way home. Came right back.”

They exit through the back door and Sirius bolts it before pulling it closed.

“By the way...” Says James, and Sirius looks over at him. “Cool jacket.”

Sirius grins.

* * *

At the Evans’ home it’s a typical Christmas morning, a plate of mince pies set lovingly on the table, Christmas tree glimmering while the Queen's Speech plays on the telly.

Lily sits with the cat on her lap, looking at a moving photograph. It depicts a younger Sev and Lily on their first day of school, dressed in Hogwarts robes and laughing merrily about something long forgotten.

She smiles at the memory.

* * *

Severus sits on his tiny, rickety bed. His room is small, dark, and messy. In lieu of curtains he has pinned a sheet over the windows. Cauldrons, books, and jars of unsettling magical ingredients line the walls.

He opens the package from Lily, finding a beautiful woolen men's coat, and he hugs it to himself.

From somewhere below, there's a faint crash and angry screaming. Severus closes his eyes, blocking it out.

He sets the wrapping aside, reaches for the accompanying card.

> Merry Christmas Sev! I saw this in Leicester shopping centre and thought of you. That way you have something posh to wear now that it's so cold. Take good care of it, it cost me half my remaining pocket money... the other half on your birthday present, but you'll have to wait and see!

Sev's fingers brush the fabric of the coat.

> Cheers to another year of our faboo friendship. You were right about what you said at Hogwarts. Maybe things do change, but we don't. You'll never be rid of me! Ha-ha.

Sev feels a lump in his throat.

> Anyway, I hope your Christmas is quiet at least. Only a week 'til we're back at school! I'll see you later on, yeah? Lots of love, Lily.

Severus sets the card down on his dresser, right next to a framed photograph— his favourite one, of he and Lily on their first day of school. So much has changed since then, he thinks.

* * *

Cameras flash in the faces of Harold Minchum and Barty Crouch. Crouch, with his toothbrush-moustache, is just as composed and severe as the new minister. At his side are Frank and Alice.

Minchum addresses the crowd.

“Dorian Dearborn, one of our senior Aurors, was murdered in London at 5am this morning.”

He allows this grim news to sink in.

“This constitutes a direct attack on the ministry, and we can no longer deny the reality of our situation. As your new minister, I intend to do everything in my power to combat this evil.”

He eyes the crowd, throat bobbing.

“As of January first, 1976, the Azkaban guard will be doubled.”

This pronouncement is followed by gasps and murmuring from the crowd, and the renewed flashing of cameras.

“We will also be increasing Auror presence in all major population centres. The enemy will not hold back, and neither shall we. The Ministry will do everything in its power to apprehend these Death Eaters—”

More flashing and gasping. It’s the first time that name has been officially recognised by the Ministry of Magic, and the seriousness of this permeates through the crowd.

“And their leader, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord. We will stop at nothing and show no mercy, until he is caught, and justice served.”

Frank and Alice eye each other, uncertain.

“This is a dark time for the Wizarding World. It is paramount we take this threat seriously. As of now, we must be unified, and show no weakness. As of now, we are at war.”

Silence; only the flashing of cameras is heard.

“Thank you, and Merry Christmas.”


	9. Blood Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily, Mary and Marlene make changes; the Marauders prepare for the next full moon. Meanwhile, Severus and Avery are let in on a dark secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope to be able to update more regularly now that I'm not in school!

~~~~The Great Hall is buzzing with lunch activity on the first day of term, and Marlene, Mary, and Cresswell can be found starting breakfast together.

“Did you see the timetable posted in the common room today?” Says Cresswell.

“Which one?” Says Marlene.

“Quidditch practise, obviously. Potter's going to be working us to the bone, the tyrant. Hope you’re ready.”

Marlene looks gloomily down at her toast. “I'm off the team, remember?”

“Potter didn't say forever, McKinnon.” Says Cresswell. “He knows as well as anyone else we need you if we're going to win the cup this year. With a good bit of begging you're sorted. You've put all that rubbish behind you, haven't you?

Mary sits up a little, awaiting the answer with interest.

Marlene glances over at the Slytherin table. Sitting at the end by themselves are Nicola and Shea. Marlene looks away.

“Oh. Yeah, absolutely.” She says. “This year is a new year for me. No more rubbish.”

“Glad to hear it,” says Cresswell.

Marlene takes a swig of water, trying not to look back over at the Slytherin table. She controls herself. She smiles. “New beginnings, eh?”

“New beginnings,” agrees Mary. “Definitely.”

* * *

Lily stares at her face in the mirror, runs through the ends of her hair, pushes it over her shoulder. She blinks uncertainly at herself and the bouncy new haircut she got just before returning to school. She fluffs it out, then gives herself a small smile. _New year, new Lily_.

She rummages through her bag, pulls out a tube of muted red lipstick (stolen from Petunia, but she'll hardly notice) and applies it carefully. She considers herself. It looks a bit strange, like someone else— but that, thinks Lily, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Tucking all her things back into her bag, Lily heads for the door, down the stone steps and across the common room. It’s taken her a little longer than usual, and she’s running a little late for breakfast. In her hurry she nearly runs into James Potter, who is hanging around by the portrait.

“Oh. Christ. Sorry.” She mumbles. Why did it have to be him?

But Potter’s face lights up at the sight of her. “Evans!” He says. “Haven't seen you around much lately.”

“Thank Christ for small miracles,” returns Lily. Why is he bothering her now? He’s barely allowed her one peaceful day back.   

“I was looking for you at dinner—” Says James as she tries to push past to the portrait hole. “Wait, wait, allow me.”

He holds the portrait open for her. Confused and non-too-pleased, Lily exits, and he follows.

When he’s followed her halfway down the hall, she stops next to a tapestry. “What is it, Potter?”

“You changed your hair.”

She tucks a strand behind her ear self-consciously. “I see your eyes are working,” she says coolly.

“Is that a joke about my poor eyesight? I'm sensitive you know.”

“What do you want?”

His hand jumps to the back of his hair. “Yeah, did you, uh, did you have a good Christmas?”

She squints at him. “What? Yes, it was fine, thanks. Did you want something?”

“Just making conversation is all,” he says. “We’re both headed to the Great Hall, so stands to reason we’d walk together.”

“Right,” she says. “Stands to reason.”

He nods, and they walk.

* * *

At the Slytherin table, Severus looks around at his friends. Their reduction in numbers feels painfully obvious— nobody has taken the wide space next to Mulciber, usually reserved for Rosier. And of course, Shea and Selwyn are supposedly too good for them now. The group seems smaller than it ever has— accentuated by the fact that other students have given them a wide berth. Everyone at Hogwarts is scared of them now, which gives Severus a private thrill _. Not so brave now, are you, Gryffindors?_ He glances over at their table, eyes immediately finding Black and Pettigrew and Lupin… but where’s Potter? Severus chews his lip, eyes scanning the hall.

“I've had it with this place.” Mulciber is saying, darkly. “It used to stand for something. Used to belong to us, the wizards. Now it’s for the mudbloods and the blood traitors.”

Sev is barely listening, mind whirring. What could Potter be up to? His eyes rake the sea of students and he realizes, with a lurch, that another familiar face is missing as well. Lily isn’t with her friends. And Potter isn’t with his…

 “If my work here wasn't so important, I'd have taken the fall instead of Evan. Seeing this once-great institution fall to the dogs tears me apart.”

He notices Severus is distracted, staring at the Gryffindor table.

“Don't you agree, Severus?”

Severus draws his gaze reluctantly away from the Gryffindors. “What? Oh, yeah. Where's Potter? I don't see him—”

“He's probably off with his little blood traitor friends,” says Avery. “Who cares?”

Sev clearly does.

“What's your problem, anyway, Snape?” Says Wilkes. “You've been awful twitchy ever since we got back. Twitchier than usual, I mean.”

“I haven't got a problem,” Sev snaps.

“Doesn't seem that way,” says Wilkes snidely.

“Severus is just antsy,” says Mulciber. “We all are. How is that new spell of yours coming along?”

Severus looks down, mumbles into his breakfast. “Good. It just needs some fine tuning. I need to test it to make sure.”

Mulciber nods. “Get it ready. You're going to need it soon.”

“Why's that, then?” Says Avery curiously.

Mulciber says nothing.

* * *

Lily enters the Great Hall with Potter close behind her, and to her immense relief spots Marlene’s blonde head almost immediately.

“’Scuse me Potter, my friends are over there.” She says, and makes a beeline for her friends, sitting down next to Marlene.

“Morning all,” she says casually.

“Morning—” Begins Mary, then stops. “Are you wearing lipstick?”

Lily turns a faint pink. “Yes, is it too much?

“No, it looks really nice, Lily, honest.” Says Marlene.

Mary nods. “Yeah, I've just never really seen you with make-up on, is all.”

“Well, I'm trying something new,” says Lily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

“Morning Lily.”

She looks up. Bertram Aubrey has approached from the Ravenclaw table, neatly groomed as always with a shining prefect badge pinned to his chest.

“Oh, hello Bertram.” Says Lily pleasantly.

“Morning Aubrey,” Cresswell says more pointedly.

Bertram ignores him, addressing Lily directly. “Lily, I understand your OWLs are coming up, and believe me, I know how that is.”

Lily starts. She really hasn’t had time to start worrying about OWLs. “Oh, yeah, um—”

“I just stopped by to say that if you need help covering your patrols so you can study, you only need ask.”

“Oh, wow, um, thanks.” Says Lily, surprised.

“Or if you need help studying... I did get twelve OWLs last year.” Bertram says proudly. “Just say the word.”

“I... will. Thank you.” Lily says, feeling her face heat up for some reason. Aubrey nods farewell and leaves.

“Merlin, that bloke has the biggest wand up his condescending arse I've ever seen.” Marlene says, goggling after him.

“Oh, he's not so bad,” says Lily mildly. “He was offering to help, wasn't he? He's always been nice.”

Mary snorts. “To you, clearly.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Well he didn't seem awfully keen on the rest of us, did he.” Mary leans forward conspiratorially. “Must be the lipstick. It's too sexy. You're too powerful now, Lily.”

Lily, pleased despite herself, gives her a light, friendly shove, which Mary returns.

Marlene meets Nicola's eye. Nicola stands ups, as if she's going to head towards them. Marlene stands too.

“Well, I'm going to go find Potter and beg him to let me back on the team. See you in Transfiguration?

“Right. Good luck.” Says Cresswell.

She picks up her bag and departs at top speed.

At the Ravenclaw table, Lily sees Bertram sitting down with his friends, saying something that Lily can’t hear.

* * *

Sirius leans against the wall of the castle, turning the can of spraypaint Miller gave him over and over.

“Sirius!”

Sirius looks up to see Peter hurrying towards him, breath misting in the chill air.

“Oh, hey Peter.”

Peter pulls up to him, puffing hard. “Wondered where you'd got to after lunch. We’ve got Defence. You alright?”

“Fantastic,” Sirius says.

Peter frowns. “Ready for tonight?”

“You don't have to keep asking me that. I'm not going to do anything stupid this time.”

“I know that.”

Sirius shrugs. “Remus doesn't seem to.”

“Can you blame him?” Says Peter shrewdly.

“S'pose not.”

“Just give him some time.”

“Right.”

He looks over at the horizon, where ominous clouds are gathering. He feels the first spittle of rain on his face— he inhales, and the scents of the grounds seem to intensify around him. Sirius looks towards the forest, at the black, mist-shrouded trees.

“C’mon then, we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry.”

“Right,” says Sirius again, and turns to follow Peter back towards the castle.

* * *

The rain, now unrelenting beats against the window.

It's the end of class, and students are packing up and filing out.

Someone pushes roughly past Severus, shoving him into the wall. Severus snarls at him.

“Watch where you're going.”

“Sorry Snivellus,” calls Potter loudly. “Didn't see you there. I mistook you for a sad waste of space.

Severus ignores the laughter of the Gryffindors around him, shrugs his bag higher on his shoulder and hurries after Avery and Wilkes.

“Miss MacDonald?” Says Richter. “A word, please.”

Mary shrugs at her friends, hangs back. Cresswell seems unwilling to go, but she shoos him away.

“Yes, Professor?”

He looks down at her, pensive. “I merely wanted to ask, are you alright?”

Mary looks away.

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?

“Fairly certain, yeah.”

Richter frowns at her.

“I will speak plainly, Miss MacDonald. You have been through an ordeal none of your friends can comprehend. Dark magic leaves its mark on the soul as well as the body.”

Mary says nothing, fighting a sudden embarrassing urge to cry.

“You have a natural aptitude for defensive magic. I remember at the beginning of term, you were the best in your year.”

She looks at him in surprise.

“But you've changed,” he continues.

Mary hangs her head. “Yeah, everyone keeps saying that. I know they want the old Mary back.”

“Well, I want you to ignore them.” Richter says. “You don't have to be the old Mary. In fact, you might find it impossible. Rarely can we move backwards, after all.”

Mary ponders this.

“It's alright for you to be different. What isn't alright is living in fear.”

“You think I'm living in fear?”

Richter eyes her. “I've lived through a war. I've seen that look in your eyes a thousand times.”

Mary looks away.

“So, what can we do about that, hmm?”

“Face my fears?” She says sarcastically.

“Hmm. Perhaps.” He says. “But I think what you need is to know you can face them.”

“What do you mean?”

He sits at his desk, taking out a parchment and quill. “I know your OWLs are approaching and you fifth years are awfully busy. But would you happen to have a free evening? Once a week, no more.”

“I reckon so...” Says Mary curiously. “What for?”

“Excellent. I will pencil you in.”

* * *

It's the early evening, and the Quidditch pitch is darkened by the unceasing rain and oppressive stormclouds above.

James is alone, streaking up and down the pitch through the rain, shooting goal after goal. The Quaffle magically zooms back into his grasp after he scores.

“James!”

Dorcas is in the stands attempting to get his attention, cloak over her head and getting drenched.

“James!” She calls again, louder.

He hears her this time, tucks the Quaffle under his arm and zooms towards her. He dismounts, pulling her under an awning.

“Dorcas! What are you doing here? Are you mad? You're soaking wet.”

“I couldn't remember the spell...” She says, embarrassed.

James smiles and taps her with his wand. “Impervius.”

The rain bounces off her.

“Come on then,” he says. “Let's get inside.”

They move into the interior of the stands.

“You weren't at dinner.”

“Shit, is dinner over? I lost track of time.”

She chuckles incredulously. “You're mad.”

“Just dedicated.”

“Well lucky for you, Quidditch Captain, I brought you dinner.”

She rummages in her robes, revealing a wrapped sandwich. “Hopefully it didn't get too soggy.”

James beams and kisses her on the cheek.

“You're brilliant, I was starved. Thanks.”

He unwraps it (it is a bit soggy) and tears into it eagerly.

Dorcas looks at her hands, thinking.

“What's eating you?” James says, noticing.

“I dunno, I s'pose I'm just wondering...”

“Mmhmm?” Says James through the sandwich.

Dorcas steels herself. “What this is.”

“Pardon?”

“Us, I mean.” Dorcas says, eyeing him nervously. “Are we going out, or.. or... I don't know. When we saw each other over the holidays it was wonderful, and I thought... Oh I don't know.”

James chews pensively, then swallows. Dorcas waits anxiously for a response.

“Well, I don't know.” He says finally. “Do you want us to be going out?”

“Well, I mean... yes, I think so.”

“Sorted then.”

He pops the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, chews and swallows it, and drops a light kiss on her cheek.

“Sorted?” Dorcas says, laughing in relief.

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “Don't know why girls have to make everything so complicated.”

Dorcas gives a wry chuckle. “We can't help it.”

“What time is it?” James says suddenly, looking at his watch. “Shit, shit, I'm late.”

“Late for what?”

“I'm meeting my mates,” he says. “I'd walk you back to the castle but I'm not headed there.”

Dorcas hides her disappointment well. “That's alright. I know the charm now.”

“Thanks for the sandwich. See you later?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

He kisses her, then mounts his broom and kicks off, zooming out of the stands into the night. She watches him go.

* * *

Through the archways of the bridge, the full moon is visible.

Severus contemplates it, knowing full well that in the Shrieking Shack, Remus Lupin is transforming.

Suddenly, the night is illuminated by blinding wandlight.

Mulciber has approached, cloak pulled low over his face and glowing wand held aloft. Avery stands behind him, peering back down the bridge where they came from. His wand is also alight.

“Something on your mind, Severus?” Says Mulciber.

“He's probably just thinking about his boyfriend, Potter.” Avery snickers.

“Shut up,” growls Severus.

“We should get moving,” says Mulciber.

Avery hurries after him. “Where are we going, anyway?

“You'll see soon enough.”

He leads the way across the sundial, down the grassy hill. Avery and Severus follow, hurrying to keep up.

When Hagrid's cabin comes into view, Mulciber extinguishes his wandlight. Avery follows suit.

“Come on,” says Mulciber.

He heads, unmistakeably, into the Forbidden Forest.

A bloodcurdling howl rips through the air. Severus and Avery exchange an uneasy glance.

“It's a full moon, have you noticed?”

Severus notices that Avery looks really rather nervous. “So?” He says, drawing himself up, and follows Mulciber into the forest.

* * *

Awful howls and inhuman screams cut through the night, from not very far away.

Sirius and Peter stand a safe distance from the tree, waiting...

Something gently noses at Peter's arm. He gives a little shriek, then sees it’s a familiar-looking stag.

“Prongs! You scared me half to death.”

The stag transforms into James, who claps Peter amicably on the shoulder.

“Honestly, call yourself a Gryffindor.”

“Don't blame me,” says Peter with a grin. “There's a werewolf about, remember.”

“Shall we get a move on?” Says Sirius.

He looks nervous, eyeing the entrance to the willow. The tree itself, silhouetted in the moonlight, is shuddering, whipping its branches about.

“Peter?” Prompts James.

Peter lurches forward and becomes a rat, scurrying away into the dark. They wait...

After a moment, the tree freezes.

Sirius and James whoop and cheer, and join a now-human Peter by the entrance.

“Ready?” James says.

They eye each other.

“Ready,” confirms Sirius.

James nods, then launches himself down the tunnel, and they follow him. For what seems like ages they creep along the earthen passageway, James in the lead with his wand tip glowing.

Finally they reach the door to the Shack and enter, peering around warily. The entire building moans and groans with the cold, and from somewhere above they can hear snarls and whines.

They ascend the stairs.

James steels himself. “Alright then, lads... this is it.”

He turns— Sirius has already transformed, padding cautiously towards the door. Peter scuttles around his feet.

“ _Alohomora_.”

The door clicks open and James transforms into the stag.

Sirius, having reached the door, pushes it open with his nose—

The werewolf is huddled in a corner, whimpering pitifully and clutching at itself. Fresh blood splatters the walls and floors. Sirius lets out a little whine of sympathy.

Hearing him, or scenting them perhaps, the werewolf turns, fixes them with feral yellow eyes. He lets out a long, piercing howl.

* * *

Mulciber leads Severus and Avery further and further into the forest. All three have their hoods pulled low over their heads.

Suddenly, a chilling howl echoes across the trees.

Avery looks around at the unearthly sound, spooked. “Did you hear that? There's werewolves in this forest, you know.”

“Quiet,” hisses Mulciber.

Avery sulks. “You couldn't have chosen a night that wasn't full moon?”

“It has to be tonight.”

“Not scared, are you?” Says Severus in a low voice.

“As if you'd be so brave if you actually met a werewolf,” snaps Avery.

Severus smiles to himself. Avery really has no idea. He, however, knows that Remus Lupin is locked tightly away in the Shrieking Shack.

Mulciber shushes them, leads them down a steep embankment to a pool that glimmers in the moonlight.

* * *

The stag, the dog, and the rat face the wolf, illuminated by the moonlight, waiting, waiting...

At last, Moony turns away, scratches at himself and sniffs.

Padfoot is the first to approach. He sniffs at the wolf, the wolf sniffs him back. Padfoot wags his tail happily.

The stag and the rat approach, and the wolf stretches out to sniff them too.

The wolf, calm now, lies down. Padfoot curls up against him.

Prongs and Wormtail follow suit, pressing themselves against the wolf, and the four animals lie there, quietly.

The full moon is visible through the window...

* * *

...and, a short ways away, it is reflected in a small pool in a forest clearing.

Reflected as well are the faces of Avery, Mulciber, and Severus, peering down into the pool.

Avery looks unimpressed. “A puddle,” he says skeptically.

“This is an ancient art once practised by Dark Wizards, lost to time.” Says Mulciber importantly.

“What is?” Asks Severus.

“It's called Blood Scrying.”

Mulciber takes out a long, wicked silver knife, extends his arm, pale white in the moonlight, over the pool.

“What the blazes are you doing?” Says Avery with alarm.

Mulciber slices his arm— blood runs in rivulets down his arm and drips into the pool, marring the reflection of the moon with bright scarlet clouds. He waves his wand over the surface.

Severus stares, fascinated. “How does it work?” He says.

Mulciber wipes his arm clean, then shakes his sleeve back over it. “It requires a full moon, a shallow pool of still water, and a blood sacrifice. The image is clearer if the sacrifice is unwilling, but I was pressed for time.”

“Besides,” Avery snickers. “Dumbledore might object to you slicing up his students.”

“Quiet!” Says Mulciber. Severus leans forward for a better view.

The blood coalesces over the white disk of the moon, into the shape of a man’s face, as if he were reflected there too.

“Mulciber,” says the man. “I see you brought friends.”

Mulciber nods. “These are Preston Avery, and Severus Snape.”

“Snape...” The man ponders. “I don't know that name.”

Severus flushes. “Who are you?” He says quickly.

“That is not your concern, boy.” Says the man, brows knitting. He addresses Mulciber. “Can they be trusted?”

Mulciber is quick to reply. “Yes.”

The man nods. “Very well. I don't have much time. I will be brief. My name is Travers. I represent a certain group with a vested interest in keeping an eye on matters within the school.”

Avery snorts. “"A certain group"... we're not stupid, you know.”

But Travers is not amused. “That remains to be seen. Discretion is key. You cannot be seen to be speaking openly about your task.”

“Our task?” Says Severus. “What is that exactly?”

Travers’ eyes flit back to him. “Following Rosier's expulsion, I instructed Mulciber to bring me other loyal allies. You are to be our eyes and ears within the castle walls. As students, you can go where we cannot. But you must exercise extreme caution and never let anybody know what it is you are doing.”

“What are we supposed to be looking for?” Asks Avery.

“Any information that might prove valuable to our cause, but in particular... we need eyes on Dumbledore, and his closest allies.”

“Dumbledore?” Repeats Sev.

“He is an accomplished legilimens,” says Travers.

Avery frowns. “What's that?”

“A mind-reader,” answers Severus immediately.

Avery looks unnerved at the thought.

“A muggle vulgarism, but yes, in essence.” Travers says. “Mulciber will begin your training in Occlumency, the art of shielding the mind against penetration—”

Avery snickers, and Travers glares at him.

“Your training will begin immediately. I will contact you on the next full moon.”

And he vanishes from the pool, leaving only their rippling reflections.

Mulciber pulls his hood over his head again, face filled with grim determination, turns to leave with the others behind him.

* * *

Mary wakes with a start, sitting up and gasping for breath. She's drenched in sweat.

“Mary?” Says Marlene concernedly, staring over at her. “What is it?”

Mary's reply is automatic and empty. “Nothing. I'm fine.” The image of Mulciber in the forest, his pale eyes looking through her, is still burned into her skull.

“Mary—"

“Go back to sleep.”

She pours herself a glass of water, downs it, then lies back down on her side with her back to Marlene. Her eyes are wide open.

* * *

A shaft of sunlight enters through a crack in the boarded-up windows of the shack and onto the sleeping boys, now all fully human.

Remus wakes suddenly, sees his friends and remembers.

He smiles, gets shakily to his feet and crosses to find his clothes, stepping over a sleeping Peter.

As he pulls on his trousers, he suddenly looks a bit queasy— without warning, he dives to the side and vomits on the floor.

Embarrassed, Remus wipes his mouth and waves his wand. “Evanesco.”

The vomit vanishes.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Remus nearly jumps out of his own skin.

Sirius is sitting up, fishing for a cigarette.

“Rough night mate?” He says cheerily. “I think you might've had one too many.”

Remus laughs a little.

“Told you everything would be fine,” says Sirius. “And it was, wasn't it? It went perfectly!

Remus has to grin. “Yeah, it did.”

“I reckon we could even start wandering around outside a little next time. Stretch those wolfy legs.”

“I don't think so,” says Remus.

“Why not? What could go wrong?”

“How about everything?” Says Remus bitterly. Has Sirius already forgotten what happened before Christmas?

“You don't remember last night, but I do.” Says Sirius. “You calmed right down. Almost tame.”

“I do remember... a little. More than usual.”

“See?” Says Sirius as he pops the fag into his mouth. “Besides, between James and I, I'm sure we can keep you under control if you misbehave.”

He gives a bark of laughter and lights the cigarette with his wand tip.

“I don't know...”

“Come on, Remus, it'll be fun!”

Remus says nothing, annoyance rising faster than Sirius’s cloud of smoke.

“The Marauders, roaming the Hogwarts grounds.” Sirius is saying, misty-eyed. “And the forest. Not to mention the village. I've never seen it at night. Who knows what we'd discover, we could finally finish the map-

Remus interrupts him. “Just because we're all friends again, doesn't mean I've forgiven you.”

Sirius is taken aback by this.

“And doesn't mean I trust you,” says Remus.

Sirius opens his mouth to say something, but just then James wakes up.

“Ow, I feel like I've been sleeping on a wooden board.”

He puts on his glasses, takes in his surroundings.

“Oh, right,” he says, grinning. “What time is it?”

“Blimey, Madame Pomfrey!” Says Remus, suddenly panicked. “You've got to go, quick, before she finds you here. Peter, wake up!

With a groan, the last Marauder stirs into wakefulness.

“Wherrami?”

James is looking at Remus, beating dust from his clothes.

“I've never seen you look so good after a full moon,” he says.

Remus smiles. It's true— he feels a bit shit, but much better than he usually does after a transformation.

“Doesn't he, Sirius?” Prompts James.

Sirius regards him sulkily, shrugs.

Remus avoids his gaze. “You need to leave, Madame Pomfrey could be here any minute.”

Peter gets to his feet and the three of them head for the door.

“Er, by the way—"

They stop in the doorway, looking back at him. Remus looks at them, doesn't quite have the words.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Mary sits opposite Richter.

“Are you ready?” Richter says.

Between them is a bubbling cauldron, and a goblet.

Mary looks apprehensive, but she nods.

“This will be a more powerful dose than we tried in class. But I feel you are ready. Once you are able to resist the Compulsion Concoction, we will... move on.”

“To what?” Asks Mary.

“For now, drink your potion.”

Mary takes the goblet, dips it into the Cauldron.

“Remember, resist. At all costs. You are stronger than the potion, stronger than any curse. What's in here—” He taps his temple “—is stronger. Channel that strength, that passion, that rage. Think about those who hurt you, and refuse to let them. Remember.

Mary nods, resolute, and downs the potion.

“Stand up, Mary.”

Mary concentrates all her willpower on remaining seated— she finds herself rising, yes, but painfully slowly, sliding up the back of the chair.

“Good... you're fighting.” Says Richter, tapping his temple again. “Now stand on your chair.”

Mary begins to do so, placing one foot on the seat of the chair and one hand on the back.

Then, as if it were burning, she suddenly pushes it away from herself.

“Excellent! Go and fetch the chair.”

She takes two steps towards it, then her face darkens with anger and she plants her feet, staring defiantly at Richter.

He laughs, clearly delighted. “We are progressing much faster than I had hoped! Clap, Mary.”

She succeeds in doing nothing, balling her fists at her sides.

“Take a step towards me.”

She doesn't move.

“Nod your head.”

She does nothing.

“Well well,” says Richter, fire in his eyes.

He takes out a little flask of yellow potion and empties it into her goblet.

“This is the antidote. If you like, you may drink it now. I think we are done for today.”

She downs the antidote.

“We're done already?” She says, a little disappointed. She feels powerful, more powerful than she has in months.

“One step at a time,” he says. “You've done very well, displayed a mental fortitude remarkable for a girl your age. Tell me, What is it you want to do after leaving Hogwarts?”

She is thrown by the question. “I, uh, don't know. I haven't thought about it.”

He frowns, moustache bristling. “In the current climate, your Ministry could certainly use Aurors like you. Think about it.”

Mary takes this in.

* * *

The fifth years are gathered in small groups around tables, studying. Books and parchment are spread out everywhere the eye can see. Some students are practising spells.

Marlene, Lily, and Cresswell are sitting at one such table.

Marlene has a large slug before her, which has left a shining trail over the table and several papers.

“I can't handle this,” she says in desperation. “My brain is going to explode.”

She flops forward onto the table, burying her face in a book and hair falling over the slug.

Lily pats her back soothingly, removes blonde strands from the slug's path.

“Come on, Marlene. I'll help you figure it out.”

Marlene looks up at her. “It's no use. I'm just going to have to flunk all my OWLs.”

“You won't flunk all your OWLs, don't be silly.” Says Cresswell. “You just—”

He stops, having spotted Mary entering.

“Mary! Over here.”

Students next to him shush him.

“Sorry...”

He waves her over.

“Where've you been?” Lily says.

“Richter's office,” says Mary. “He's been... helping me catch up.”

“Wish he'd help me catch up,” says Marlene gloomily.

Mary sits down, looking concernedly at her dejected friend.

“Marlene's just having a breakdown over her Vanishing spells,” Lily explains.

“I can't seem to vanish more than the shell. Or maybe I'm just transfiguring my snail into a slug. I can't tell.”

“You should ask Potter,” suggests Cresswell. “He's got a knack for Transfiguration.”

Marlene scoffs. “He won't even let me back on the team, he's not likely to be helping me with schoolwork, is he?”

“You've asked him, then?” Says Marlene.

“Well, no...”

“Come on, McKinnon.” Cresswell says. “The reserve is absolute rubbish, he can't reverse pass or Woollongong for shite, we're all just waiting for you to come back. Even Potter. 'Specially Potter.”

Marlene looks uncertain. “I don't know...”

“We'll back you up, won't we?” Lily says confidently.

Cresswell nods. “'Course.”                                                                                

Severus and a group of Slytherins enter the study hall, crossing to the furthest table away from the Gryffindors.

Lily smiles and waves enthusiastically. He gives her a small, embarrassed wave.

“Not still hanging around him, are you?” Says Mary.

“'Course I am. He's my best mate, isn't he?”

Marlene lowers her voice, leaning in. “After what happened this Christmas, are you sure it's such a good idea? An auror was killed, Lily. The Dearborns are friends of my family, you know. I've met Dorian Dearborn loads of times. It's really sad what happened.”

Lily draws herself up stubbornly. “I don't see what on earth that's got to do with Severus.”

Her three friends exchange glances, and mutually decide to drop it.

“Things are getting bad, though, aren't they?” Says Cresswell. “Have you lot told your parents what's going on?”

He's speaking to Mary and Lily- both girls shake their heads.

“They'd never let me come back to Hogwarts I reckon,” says Lily.

“My parents say there's nowhere safer than Hogwarts while Dumbledore's headmaster,” says Marlene. “They know Max and I are alright here.”

Cresswell shrugs. “Yeah, but try explaining to a fourty-five year old steel worker from Leeds that a bloke called Dumbledore and his magic wand is going to protect his only son from "Death Eaters".”

They laugh.

“I don't tell him nothing, and it's better that way.”

“Look at them,” says Mary. “They're so full of it. They know they have nothing to worry about.”

She's staring at the fifth year Slytherins, who are indeed enjoying a smug laugh about something.

Lily looks too, unhappy.

“Look, Potter's sitting right over there.” Cresswell says, pointing. “Just go and ask him.”

“What if he says no?” Marlene says fretfully.

“He won't.”

“I'll go with you,” says Lily.

The Marauders are sitting a few tables away. Only Remus is attempting to study. The others are excitedly discussing the full moon.

“For a second, I thought we were goners.” Peter is saying. “He turned and looked at us with his great big eyes and let out this awful bloodcurdling howl— it was terrifying. Almost wet meself.”

“But then he calmed right down, didn't you Remus?” James says, ruffling Remus's hair affectionately.

Remus frowns down at his notes. “How much syrup of hellebore goes in the Draught of Peace again? I keep forgetting.”

“Seven drops exactly,” says a voice from behind.

Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon have approached. Immediately, the Marauders exchange looks of alarm, aware of the conversation they'd just been having.

Lily narrows her eyes in suspicion at their faces.

“What?” She says.

“Excuse me, can't you see this is a private conversation?” Says Sirius.

“Well, I'm sure it was terribly important.” Lily says, waving it away. “We need a quick word with Potter.”

James sits up attentively. “I'm all ears, Evans.”

“Well, it's Marlene, really. Go on, Mar, ask him.”

She pushes a nervous Marlene to the forefront.

“Look here, Potter, I—”

She breaks off.

James folds his arms, a little disappointed that it's not Lily that wants to speak to him.

“Marlene's been doing really well,” prompts Lily.

“Then I s'pose she'll be able to speak for herself, won't she.” James says.

Lily shuts up. Marlene steels herself.

“It's true, Potter, I've been clean almost a month now.” Marlene says. “And I've been working really hard on drills and things on my own, I s'pose I wanted to ask... I wanted to know...”

“If I'd let you back on the team.”

He eyes them coolly, arms behind his head.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, Potter, you know she's the best you've got. You need her! Your reserve is absolute rubbish, can't even reverse pass or... or woolly-gong-thing.”

James looks at her in amusement, and a hint of fondness. “Woollongong Shimmy?”

“Thanks Lily, please stop trying to help.” Says Marlene miserably.

Lily retreats again. They wait for James's verdict. He looks from Marlene to Lily, then softens.

“Alright, McKinnon.” He says finally. “You're on probation. Practise schedule's in the common room. Don't fuck it up this time.”

Marlene looks like she can't believe it— Lily looks delighted.

“Yes! See, I told you.” She says.

“Thanks, Potter. I won't let you down. I swear.” Says Marlene earnestly.

“Better not. The reserve really is rubbish, poor chap.”

Delighted, the two girls move away, clinging to each other.

James heaves a sigh, watching them— mostly Lily— leave, a little wistfully. Sirius sees.

“What's up with you?” He says shrewdly.

James scrambles to answer. “Oh, uh, nothing. Just not sure I made the right choice.”

“Weren't you just saying yesterday how McKinnon is loads better than that fourth year you've got?”

“Yeah, yeah— oi, what is he looking at?”

Sirius turns and sees Severus still glaring their way. He glares back, and Severus looks away.

“He's been even worse since we got back,” says Peter. “Smug git.”

“Well, it must be frustrating.” James says savagely. “He knows Remus's big secret, but he's not allowed to tell anyone about it. Not to mention I saved his worthless hide, which has got to be really embarrassing.”

Remus buries himself in a book, unwilling to be part of the conversation.

“He's just waiting for a chance to get back at us,” says Sirius.

“Can I have a look at your Potions essay, Sirius?” Remus asks.

Sirius flings it at him.

“We'd better be on our guard.”

He looks darkly over at Severus, who is bent over a textbook, scribbling in the margins.

* * *

Lily and Mary sit in the Gryffindor stands, sharing a flask of steaming tea.

Mary can’t explain why being here fills her with sickening dread; everything in her screams that something really, really bad must have happened to her here. Lily has had to convince her to come and watch Marlene’s first practice back on the team. And Cresswell looked so happy when he saw her in the stands… Mary steels herself, thinks of what Richter said.

Above them, the Gryffindor players are practising, zooming by the girls at intervals.

“So all these extra lessons with Richter...” Lily says casually.

“He's helping me catch up with my classes,” says Mary.

“Well, you weren't gone that long. You can't have missed that much.”

She's eyeing Mary with amusement.

“Well— _Oi_!”

Cresswell swoops by and snatches a piece of toast from her grip. He grins insolently at them as he flies away.

“So what's really going on?” Prompts Lily.

“Awfully perceptive all of a sudden, aren't you?” Mary says wryly.

She watches the practise— James passes to Marlene, who punches the Quaffle right through the goalhoop.

Lily and Mary cheer, and James looks over at them.

“Extra lessons with Richter...” Says Lily dreamily. “He is sort of ruggedly handsome, isn't he? All those battle scars...”

Mary shoves her playfully. “Shut up, it's not like that at all.”

“What's it like then?”

Mary waits before answering.

The team has huddled in a circle in the air— then they break apart, James barking orders.

“Well, he's been helping me.” Mary says slowly. “To defend myself.”

“Like duelling?”

“Sometimes, yeah. But defending my mind, as well. Against the Imperius curse.”

She says it forced-casually, casting an involuntary look upwards to the Gryffindor stands..

Lily looks at her, alarm creeping into her expression.

“Does he think there's a risk of it happening again?” She says worriedly.

Mary shrugs bitterly. “Mulciber's still here, isn't he?”

“Yeah,” says Lily, eyes wide. “But he's not fool enough to try anything else.”

“I don't know...”

* * *

Up in the air, James is content with the team’s performance.

“Alright, everyone.” He calls. “I think we'll call it a day. Hit the showers.”

“I'm half-starved,” says Fenwick. “Hope there's still breakfast left.”

The team floats downwards, chattering. They hit the ground, and James stops.

“McKinnon, hang on a sec.”

She turns around, a little apprehensive.

“Good to see you've been keeping up while you've been off the team. Watch your balance, though, you're a little wonky.”

She grins. “Aye, captain.”

“I think your friends are distracting Cresswell, though.” He nods towards where Cresswell is now doing pirouettes before a laughing Mary and Lily.

“Oh let him be,” says Marlene fondly. “He's just glad Mary's doing better.”

“We all are. Listen...” He seems to be thinking hard about how to phrase his question. “I was wondering about Evans—”

Marlene looks at him in confusion. “About Lily? What about her?”

“Is she—” James steels himself. “Does she ever talk about me?

Marlene is taken aback. “Yeah, I s'pose...”

James waits expectantly. Not fooled, Marlene crosses her arms.

“She's not too keen on you, to be honest Potter.”

He looks dejectedly away. “Yeah, why is that?”

“I mean, you are a bit of a git to her, in case you hadn't noticed. And you're always having a go at her mate...”

“It's only Snape...”

“I'm not too fond of him either, none of us are.” Says Marlene. “But he's Lily's best friend, you know, since they were kids. That's got to count for something.” She narrows her eyes, suspicious. “Why do you care about what Lily thinks, all of a sudden?”

“I don't,” he says unconvincingly.

“Right, 'course you don't.” Marlene says sarcastically. “By the way, Dorcas was looking for you earlier.”

He looks away a little guiltily, watching Lily and Mary leaving the stands.

“I'll see her at breakfast,” he says.

Cresswell alights beside them. “Alright? You coming?”

“You two go on,” says James. “I've got a few things I want to review...”

Cresswell shrugs and he and Marlene make for the locker rooms.

James smacks his palm against his forehead in frustration.

* * *

From within the Slytherin side of the stands, Severus peers out at the pitch, where Potter stands now alone.

He watches as Potter leans over the ball crate, taking out a beater's bat.

Severus leans forward to watch him, gripping his wand tightly.

Potter has released a bludger— it soars high into the air, then plunges back towards him at heart-stopping speed.

THWACK— Potter whacks it angrily away from himself. It comes soaring back, and he gives it another furious swing, sending it right through the center goal hoop.

In the stands, Severus is steeling himself. He raises his wand.

But Potter has sent the bludger careening in his direction— seeing it hurtling towards him, Severus topples backwards, landing in a pile of discarded banners.

He manages to extricate himself, hurrying back up to the pitch— Potter is now wrestling the Bludger back into the crate. He levitates the crate, picks up his broomstick, and heads for the locker room.

Severus grinds his teeth, then descends the stands.

* * *

James has a towel around his midriff and is towelling his hair dry. The showers are full of steam and empty of people— the team has already gone to breakfast.

The door, obscured by steam, creaks open.

James pauses. He reaches for his glasses and his wand, shoving his glasses back on his face. With all the steam, it doesn't help much.

“Hello?” He calls.

No answer.

Shrugging it off, James continues his towelling. He wipes a circle in the fogged-up mirror, inspects himself, teasing his hair one way, then the other.

With a hiss of water, all the showers suddenly turn on at once.

The steam seems unnaturally thick now... uncertainly, James moves towards the shower stalls.

“This isn't funny. Whoever it is, you're doing extra drills next practise.”

No answer. He enters the stalls...

“Revelio.”

The steam begins to clear. James squints through it. A figure is becoming visible, a dark figure holding a wand.

Before James has a chance to react, the figure has raised his wand and pointed it at James.

“ _Sectumsempra_!” Screams a voice.

James staggers as an invisible knife slashes across his chest, splitting the skin— then another, and another—

Wicked gashes are appearing all over James's bare chest, face, and stomach. Bright scarlet stains begin to blossom on his white towel.

Yelling in pain, he doubles over, hits the floor, wand clattering to the ground and rolling away.

Blood is pouring like waterfalls from his wounds, mingling with the water on the floor, streaming towards the drain.

James sees the hem of black robes whirling as his attacker runs from the showers.

Everything is a haze of steam, white linoleum, and blood...

James reaches for his wand, but it is too far away...

The world goes black.


	10. This Is a Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James recovers from the attack; Mary makes a breakthrough. Everyone deals with complications on Valentine's day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for how long it's taking to update! I'm still pushing ahead with this, though! Thanks for following!

All is dark.

“James?” Calls a voice from above. “James?”

Slowly, blearily, the world comes into view as James blinks awake and adjusts to the light…

Above him are the blurry faces of his friends, Dorcas, and Professor McGonagall, all wearing matching expressions of relief.

“Whuzzgoinon?” Says James, throat very dry. He looks down at himself. From what he can see he’s covered in bandages, and ominous patches of red dot his torso. His face stings.

“James, are you alright?” Says Dorcas. “How do you feel?”

He tries to sit up.

“Out of the way!”

Madam Pomfrey bustles through, pushing James back down onto his pillows and examining him closely.

“Don't try to move. You'll just open up all your wounds again.”

“What?

“It's been a job closing them up in the first place,” says Pomfrey fretfully. “Every time I tried, two more cuts would open up somewhere else. Clearly this is very Dark magic.”

He frowns, slowly piecing it all together.

“I was in the showers...”

He sits up suddenly, the realisation hitting him. He grabs his glasses from the bedside table, shoving them on his face.

“Snape!” He says loudly, making everyone jump. “Snape attacked me, Professor.”

“Lie down, Mr. Potter!”

McGonagall looks at him in alarm. “Snape, you say? You saw his face?”

“No... but I know it was him. Who else would it have been?”

She purses her lips. “Do you have any reason to suspect it was him?”

“Well, who else do we know who loves Dark magic and hates James?” Says Peter. “He's been looking for a chance to curse James all year.”

McGonagall and Pomfrey look at each other.

“Still, the level of this magic is very advanced for a fifth year...” McGonagall says doubtfully. “I have never seen such a thing.”

“Nor have I,” agrees Pomfrey. “I can't imagine a fifth year could cast this kind of curse.”

“I'm telling you, it was him.” James says. “Maybe with a little help from his mates.” He exchanges a significant look with Sirius.

McGonagall stands wearily.

“Very well, Potter. I shall look into it. Try and get some rest.”

She leaves, and Pomfrey eyes him critically.

“Don't move,” she says. “I'll be right back with some potion.”

Once she has left, they all lean in around James.

“Are you sure it was Snape?” Says Remus.

James rolls his eyes. “Don't be thick, Remus.”

“You should've just let him die,” Sirius says. He looks thunderous, almost shaking with quiet anger. James notices.

“Don't do anything stupid,” he says.

“I was thinking of snapping his neck, does that count as stupid?”

James feels like his head might split open, it’s throbbing so badly. “Just... just wait until I'm out of this bed. Did Madame Pomfrey say how long that would be, by the way?”

They all exchange a glance.

“What?” James says uncertainly.

Just then Madame Pomfrey returns, carrying a flask of shimmery, dark green potion. James drinks it in one go, hands it back.

“When can I leave?”

“Not for another week, at least.”

James looks at her, horrorstruck, as if she has pronounced his death.

“A _week_?”

“At least. And you're lucky it isn't more. Fortunately for you, Miss Meadowes found you and came to fetch me almost immediately.”

James turns around to look at her. She’s white as a ghost. “You found me?”

When Dorcas speaks, it is a half-whisper. “It was horrible... you were lying there, blood everywhere...”

Pomfrey eyes her. “It is thanks to Miss Meadowes that you are still alive. She even managed to stop some of of the bleeding. You might look into a career as a healer, Miss Meadowes.”

Dorcas gives her a haunted half-smile.

James reaches for her hand.

Peter checks his watch.

“We've got potions in a bit...”

“Potions?” Repeats James with a frown. “What day is it?”

“Friday. The 30th.” Says Remus. “You've been out for three days.”

“Blimey...”

He sinks back down onto his pillows, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“Don't you lot have a class to get to?” Snaps Pomfrey. “Mr. Potter needs rest!”

“We'll come see you later,” Sirius says.

They clear out, casting regretful looks back at him.

James is left alone, staring up at the ceiling.

* * *

Lily and her friends are sharing a table, a bubbling cauldron set up before each one.

“Remember, the Strengthening solution takes extreme focus to brew— so keep the chit-chat to a minimum.” Says Slughorn, pacing among the students critically.

Lily is adding powdered griffin claw to her cauldron, wrinkling her nose in concentration. “Do you have Quidditch practise tonight, Marlene?”

“Nah, it's been cancelled. Potter's still in hospital wing.”

“Still?” Lily says, surprised.

She looks over at the Marauders' table— sure enough, James is conspicuously absent. Remus and Peter are sweating over their cauldrons, while Sirius is glaring daggers over at the Slytherins, barely working on his potion.

“I know,” Marlene says. “If they weren't all so thick, I'd say it was one of the Slytherin team who did it just to sabotage us.”

“What do you mean, _did it_?” Says Lily with a frown. “I thought he was sick?”

Marlene goggles at her. “Haven't you heard? Where’ve you been? Someone attacked him in the showers on Tuesday. Dorcas found him... lying on the floor, all sliced up, covered in blood. That's why she's been so jumpy lately.”

Lily digests this, troubled. “Someone attacked him? Who?”

“Well—” Marlene begins, but Mary cuts across her acidly.

“Isn't it obvious?”

Lily doesn't say anything. She taps a vial of salamander blood over her cauldron. It hisses and steams violently.

“Come on Lily. Everyone knows Snape has it out for Potter. I don't know why he hasn't gotten in trouble for it yet. It can’t have been anyone else.”

“Well, there's technically no proof...” Says Marlene in a conciliatory tone.

Lily shakes her head. “It's Potter that has it out for Sev. He might have been defending himself, or... or...”

It sounds lame, and she knows it.

 “Right, it was James who attacked him first.” Says Cresswell sarcastically. “And Snape just happened to be in our locker room after our practise for totally innocent reasons, I'm sure.”

Lily looks increasingly agitated. “Well, we don't know for sure it was him...”

“Who else would it be?”

“You should've heard Dorcas talk about it, poor girl.” Marlene says sympathetically. “He had great slashes all over him, his face, and everything. And she was trying to lift him up but blood just kept gushing out—”

Lily drops and smashes a small flask, obviously deeply upset.

“Miss Evans, are you quite alright?” Asks Slughorn concernedly as he passes by.

“Yes, I— may I be excused to go to the loo please sir?”

“Very well, if your potion is at a non-critical stage you may go— quickly, please.”

She picks up her bag, practically flees from the classroom.

Severus watches her go, concerned, then CLANG— his cauldron suddenly tips over, spilling all over his table and the classroom floor. The wooden table immediately catches fire and he snatches his copy of advanced potion-making out of harm’s way.

There's laughter from the Gryffindor side of the class.

“Ooh, bad luck, Snape.” Crows Black. Severus notices he has his wand out, holding it casually against his palm.

“Nevermind, Mr. Snape, you'll just have to start over.” Says Slughorn. He addresses Severus a little coldly, puts out the fire with a wave of his wand.

Black and the others laugh at his misfortune.

Severus starts to rise, furious, but Avery drags him down, hissing in his ear.

“Don't, you idiot. You're already under suspicion.”

Severus sits back down, glaring.

By the end of class, Severus has come up with about a dozen different revenge scenarios. He’s barely conscious of Avery chattering away to him as they pack up and head out of the classroom, turning right towards their common room.

Suddenly, something invisible trips Severus and he goes sprawling, books and papers flying everywhere.

The laughter of the other students echoes around him as he pushes himself upright, humiliated.

Sirius Black calls down the passageway after him.

“Rather clumsy today, aren't we Snivellus?”

Severus scrambles to his feet and he LUNGES at Black—

“Tarantallegra!”

Severus finds his legs doing a frenzied tap dance, helplessly twisting around to see who cast the spell.

“That's for James, you wanker.” Says Lupin, wand out.

This draws cheers and laughter from the Gryffindors— impossibly, they all seem to hate him even more after what happened to Potter.

Avery waves his wand at him. “Finite incantatum! Merlin, what a display.”

Severus stops dancing abruptly, scrambles to pick up his papers and follow the rest of the Slytherins, who have left without him.

Black calls after him. “Your life at Hogwarts is going to be a living hell from now on!”

Marlene, Mary, and Cresswell move past the scene without an ounce of pity.

“Oh, I do hope Lily's alright though.” Marlene says. “She doesn't deserve this, today of all days.”

Mary bites her lip. “I know, I just... I wish she would see some sense. Like you have.”

“Right.”

Nicola and Shea exit at that moment, eyeing her. Nicola says something to Shea and he leaves, looking disgruntled. Nicola hangs back.

“Let's go, hurry up—” Says Marlene nervously.

Distracted by her attempt to flee, Marlene almost runs right into Edgar Bones, a tall, good-looking seventh year Hufflepuff.

“Marlene, right?” He says.

“Er… yes.” Marlene says, surprised.

He holds out his hand. “Ed Bones.”

She shakes it. “I know. I mean—”

She casts a wide-eyed look at Mary, who smiles encouragingly and melts away into the shadows with Dirk.

“I heard you're back on the Gryffindor team,” comments Edgar. “Good thing too, you're one of the best players in the school.”

Marlene turns pink. “Thanks... you're Hufflepuff captain this year, right?”

“Right,” he says with a nervous grin. “I expect I'll see you on the pitch in March, but I just wanted to ask... well, I wondered if you were going with anyone next Hogsmeade weekend.”

Marlene is thrown. “Uh... my friends, I s'pose. I hadn't really...”

She does the mental calculations, and her eyes widen.

“Oh, you mean, uh, for Valentine's day?”

“Yeah, obviously if you're not interested I completely understand—”

“Hang on...” Marlene says slowly. “You're... asking me... to Hogsmeade on Valentines.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “That was the idea, yeah. I know we don't really know each other, but you're a damn good flier, and you seem like a fun person so I thought we could—”

Marlene sees Nicola looking at her and makes up her mind.

“Alright then.”

“Really?”

She nods.

“Great!” He says. “Let's meet in the Entrance Hall at, say, eleven thirty?”

“Great,” says Marlene.

* * *

Mary enters the common room and sees Lily, sitting in a chair by the fire.

“Lily, there you are. Are you coming to lunch?”

“I'm not very hungry, Mare.”

“Oh, come on. You'll never guess what's happened.”

Lily's curiosity gets the better of her— she twists around to look at Mary.

“What?”

* * *

 “So he just asked you...” Says Lily dreamily. “He just came up to you and asked you... just like that?”

Lily, Marlene, and Mary are eating lunch, looking excitable. Cresswell is across from them, nonplussed.

“Yes, Lily, I've told you a thousand times.”

“Oh, I'm _so_ jealous.” Lily says. “Only Marlene could pull the best-looking bloke in the school without even trying.””

“Oi, I thought I was the best-looking bloke in the school.” Cresswell interjects.

“You're not bad,” says Mary, and he looks extremely pleased with this.

Dorcas and Blanca pass them.

“Is it true, Marlene?” Blanca says. “Edgar Bones? Everyone's talking about it.”

A little embarrassed, Marlene nods modestly.

“How's James, Dorcas?” Asks Cresswell.

Dorcas shoots Lily a dirty look, which Lily doesn't miss.

“Doing better. Though he wants to know why his team aren't practising without him.”

“His practise schedule is a nightmare! Aren't we allowed one week of rest?”

“Bring it up with him,” Dorcas says as they leave, shrugging. “Congratulations, Marlene.”

“Merlin's pants, it’s like I won a bloody sports broom in a raffle.” Marlene mumbles. “Who're you lot going with?”

“Well...” Says Lily uncertainly.

“No one,” Mary says.

“Yeah…” Cresswell says.

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Oh, _honestly_ , I can't be the only one with a date. Lily, boys love you, just sit there and someone's bound to ask you. As for you, Dirk, you ought to get a move on and ask Mary or someone else will.”

Silence follows this.

“D'you think Potter would help me with transfiguration while he's in the hospital wing?” Continues Marlene. “I've got to get this spell sorted out before I face McGonagall.”

She packs her bag, chugs a last swallow of pumpkin juice and departs.

“Um...” Says Lily uncomfortably.

“I...” Mary begins.

Cresswell looks like he's trying very hard to swallow something.

Lily looks back and forth between them nervously.

Cresswell exhales. “Mary, do you—”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He looks extremely relieved.

“Oh... good, then.. great.”

Mary grins a little. “I have class with Richter before Transfiguration,” she says, standing up as well. “Lily, d'you mind looking over my potions essay with me after dinner?”

“Alright.”

“Great. Common room, 9pm. Don't be late.”

Mary, too departs at top speed.

“Well, you did it!” Lily says once she’s gone.

Cresswell gives a little laugh like he can't quite believe it.

“That leaves me going on my own, though.” Says Lily a bit ruefully.

He shrugs. “If it matters that much to you, Marlene's right you know. Someone's bound to ask you.”

“Oh, I don't think so...”

She tries to look as if the thought doesn't bother her.

“Don't just say yes to the first wanker who asks, though. Some things in life are more important than having a boyfriend. Your happiness, for one.”

“I know that,” Lily says.

“You can always come with Mary and me.”

“That's going to be horribly awkward.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “It is, isn't it.”

They laugh, a little uncomfortably.

* * *

Marlene enters, seeing James, who is looking away from her out of the window.

“Blimey, you look as bad as they say.”

He turns to her with a grin. “And how bad are they saying?”

“Fairly pitiful.”

He laughs, then stops, grows serious.

“Dorcas has just been 'round with that silly friend of hers. They wouldn't stop going on about how you're going to Hogsmeade with Edgar Bones.

She stiffens a little. “Yeah, he just asked me, and I thought I would.”

“Marlene, what are you doing?”

“What does it matter if he's on the Hufflepuff team?” She says nonchalantly. “It's not going to affect how I play—”

“That's not what I'm talking about, I don't care about that. Not much, anyway. I meant, what are you doing?”

“I'm just trying to get back to normal,” says Marlene.

“Normal doesn't mean suffering needlessly.”

“Oh, honestly, Potter, I'm not suffering needlessly. It's just a stupid date, for Merlin's sake.”

James sighs. “Between you and Sirius, you're going to do my head in. Well, as long as you're sure about it.”

She isn't.

“I am.”

“Well, in the meantime we've still got to beat him at Quidditch next month, so I want you all out there practising. Just because I'm lying about all day doesn't mean you lazy sods have to.”

“I'll see what I can do,” she says, amused.

James yawns. “Whatever did we do without you?”

Marlene grins.

“Suffer needlessly, I reckon.”

* * *

Richter and Mary sit across from each other again.

“I... I don't know.” Mary says nervously.

“I repeat, Mary, we will continue with this if and only if you feel fully comfortable with it.”

“But is it even legal?”

Richter looks at her. “I will not lie to you. I myself had my doubts... an Unforgivable curse, in a school... But Dumbledore is right— the concoction isn't comparable to the real thing. And after all, this is no ordinary class.”

“Dumbledore knows about this?” Says Mary, surprised.

He nods. “It was his suggestion, in fact.”

Mary feels a bit more confident. “Alright, alright then.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“I want to. I want to be able to fight this all the way.”

“Very well,” says Richter. “Remember, you're perfectly safe.”

He points his wand at her forehead. Mary feels her legs shaking.

“ _Imperio_.”

Mary's face goes blissfully blank.

Richter's voice resounds, but he is not moving his mouth. His eyes are boring into her.

_Stand up, Mary, stand up._

Mary stands up.

_Now, climb on your chair._

She climbs on her chair, slightly unsteady. Something nags at the back of her mind, something she’s supposed to be doing, something else.

_Climb onto the desk._

She does nothing. No, something isn’t right, she’s too confused…

_Climb onto the desk, Mary_.

She climbs onto the desk.

_Jump off._

_No, hang on_ — Mary thinks. A flicker of anger bubbles up within her. And before she knows it she’s crashing backwards onto the floor instead of forwards, taking the chair with her.

Richter waves his wand, hurries to see if she is okay.

“Ow,” she says gingerly.

He helps her to her feet, eyes alight with fire. “That was good, Mary, you resisted!”

Mary, breathing hard, can't quite believe it.

* * *

Lily heads tiredly towards the Fat Lady's portrait.

“Lily!”

Bertram Aubrey is waiting around outside, and he intercepts her.

Lily responds without enthusiasm. “Hullo Bertram, what are you doing here?”

“On patrol,” he says.

“Isn't it a bit early?”

“Yes, well, I wanted to catch you beforehand... see, I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me.”

Her face changes completely, breaking into a wide grin.

“I'd— I'd love to!”

“Excellent!” He says breezily. “I'll swing round to get you in the morning, shall I?”

And he drops a little kiss on her cheek.

“Al— alright.” Says Lily, feeling her heart beat a little faster.

“’Night Lily.

He departs. Lily looks after him, warmth blooming inside her for the first time all day. She then hurries towards the portrait.

“Mens Rea!”

It flies open, she enters into the common room brimming with excitement.

“Mary, guess what—"

“Surprise!” Shouts Marlene from behind her.

Marlene propels her forward to where Mary stands proudly over a small table covered with a lilac tablecloth. Lily’s eyes widen as she registers a neat pile of gifts, and a cake decorated with purple flowers and flowing script proclaiming " _Happy Birthday Lily_ ".

Mary shoves a present into her grip “Didn't think we'd forgotten, did you?”

Lily beams with happiness. “Did sort of, yeah.”

Marlene hugs her, noogies her affectionately. “Never happen, stupid.”

Lily pulls Mary in for a group hug. Right now, everything feels exactly like it should.

* * *

James, still covered in scars that haven't yet fully disappeared, enters the Charms classroom surrounded by a throng of people cheering and applauding his entry.

“Alright, alright, let the man sit down.” Says Sirius.

Flitwick smiles from atop his pile of books. Behind him is a large cage of cawing ravens.

“Good to have you back among us, Mr. Potter.”

“Glad to be back, Professor.”

“Does it still hurt?” Asks Blanca.

“Not too bad,” says James offhandedly.

“Can you still play Quidditch?” Says Blanca.

“Yeah, 'course. Couple of scratches won't stop me from flying.”

“He's loving this, look at him.” Says Marlene to her friends.

To Lily’s irritation, Potter's become something of a hero among his peers since the incident. She frowns.

“Arrogant tosser.”

“A bit,” Mary says. “But I'm glad he's alright.”

“I'm not...” Grumbles Cresswell. “I was just getting used to the concept of having free evenings.”

An anticipatory hush falls over the classroom— the Slytherins have entered, including Severus.

They slink to their seats on the far side of the classroom. Severus is not looking at anybody. He throws his stuff down on the desk and sits, head down.

“Long time no see, Snivellus.” Says James loudly. “I heard you finally went into a shower for the first time. I imagine it was highly educational.”

There's laughter, but Severus says nothing, trying hard not to rise to the bait.

“I couldn't help notice you never came to visit me in the hospital wing... you could have at least sent some flowers.”

Sev snarls. “I'll shove some flowers up your—”

“Oh shut _up_ , the pair of you.”

Everyone turns to look at Lily, shocked.

She flushes. “The, uh, class has started.”

“Quite right, Miss Evans.” Flitwick says. “Everybody take out your wands, and choose a raven. Today, aptly enough, we will be tackling the Silencing charm...”

With a wave of his wand, the incantation appears on the blackboard: _Silencio_.

James doesn’t take his eyes off Snape, but he says nothing more.

* * *

The Marauders make their way along the packed corridor towards their next class.

“So, when are we going to do something about Snape?” Prompts Sirius.

“Don't know yet,” says James. “I've got a Quidditch match coming up, remember, I've got other things to think about.”

“It's not for another month and a half!”

“Time is galleons. And I lost a fortune lying in that hospital bed.”

“Now you know how I feel,” says Remus teasingly.

“Full moon's coming up too, now that you mention it... day after Valentines.”

“I hate Valentines day... makes me feel queasy.” Says Sirius. “S'pose you're going to Hogsmeade with Dorcas then?”

“S'pose so.” He doesn't look overly enthused. “I'd rather be looking 'round Hogsmeade, planning for the full moon with you lot, though.”

“Dorcas did save your life,” Remus points out.

“Yeah, I owe her, don't I? Ah well, you'll have to do it without me I s'pose. I hope she doesn't want to go to Madam Puddifoots...”

He wrinkles his nose, clearly disgusted by the thought.

Sirius laughs.

Peter hurries to keep up with them.

“What's wrong with Madam Puddifoot's?”

* * *

Madam Puddifoot's, as is emblazoned on the fogged-up window in curly script, is a garishly furnished little coffeeshop, which has been even more garishly decorated for Valentines day. Frills, lace, and ribbon cover every possible surface. Live cherubs flutter around sprinkling pink confetti over the affectionate couples that occupy almost all the tables.

“I've got a reservation,” says Bertram Aubrey.

He's standing in the entrance with Lily, his arm protectively around her. She looks around, a little apprehensive.

“Name?” Says Madam Pudifoot herself, a voluptuous witch with a shiny black bob.

“Aubrey, for two.”

“Yes, right this way!”

She indicates an overly cozy table in the corner.

Bertram takes Lily's coat, removes his own, and hands them both to a waiting Cherub. He pulls out a chair for her.

She sits. He does too.

“This place is, uh, rather frilly.” Lily remarks.

He grimaces. “It is a bit much, isn't it? I wasn't sure if you would like it.”

She relaxes a little. “It's fine, Bertram, honestly. It's lovely.”

“What would you like to drink?” He asks, flipping through the menu.

“I think I'll just stick to a butterbeer.”

“Are you sure you don't want to try the "Lovey-Dovey Marshmallow Bubbly" instead?”

She laughs. Pleased, he grins.

“Oh, go on then.”

Madam Puddifoot returns. “What'll it be then, loves?”

“One Marshmallow Bubbly and one Fairy Kisses Cocoa, please.” Says Bertram neutrally.

Lily is trying to keep a straight face while he orders. He catches her eye and grins.

“A Bubbly and a Cocoa, coming right up!”

She bustles away.

Bertram leans forward. “So, Lily, tell me more about yourself. Where are you hoping to go?”

“To go?” Lily says, confused. “Like, on holidays, you mean?”

“I meant after Hogwarts.”

Lily looks a little alarmed at the question. “Oh, I uh, I hadn't really thought about it yet. I have absolutely no idea...”

“Oh, don't worry about it, Lily. That's what your Careers Advice meetings are for. Your Head of House will help you look at options and sort out whatever's best for you.”

“What about you?” Asks Lily to change the subject. “Where are you, er, hoping to go?”

“Magical Law,” he answers confidently.

“That... makes sense.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it suits you.” Lily says hastily.

He beams. “Thanks, Lily. Look, I think these are our drinks.”

Madam Puddifoot has returned, with a mug of cocoa piled ridiculously high with whipped cream and covered in shimmery sprinkles, and a cocktail glass of something golden and bubbly, with marshmallows floating around the surface.

“Enjoy!” Madam Puddifoot says, setting down their drinks with a flourish.

“Thanks!” Says Lily with forced enthusiasm.

She takes a sip.

“How is it?” Bertram says apprehensively.

“Very sugary,” replies Lily.

Bertram takes a spoon, scoops a little of the whipped cream and eats it, grimacing a little.

“Going out on a limb here, but I think 'very sugary' might be the general theme of the establishment.”

Lily laughs, takes another sip.

* * *

In the Three Broomsticks, Mary and Cresswell are sitting in a booth by themselves, both looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Right, shall we, uh, take a walk?” He says after a while.

“Alright then,” says Mary.

He drains his mug of Butterbeer and they head for the door. He holds it open for her; they exit into the blustery day.

Once outside, they look at each other. It's obvious neither one has a clue what to do or say.

Finally, Cresswell lets out a sigh.

“Look, Mary, I don’t reckon this is working, is it.”

Mary says nothing.

Cresswell steamrollers ahead. “I wanted it to, but... you know, I'm alright being friends.”

“I wanted it to work as well,” says Mary. “And I still do, honest. I'm just not sure... I'm not sure if I'm ready. Not just yet.”

He nods, accepting that. “I understand.”

“But Richter's been helping me, I think— I know I'll be ready soon.”

They smile at each other.

“You'll let me know, won't you?” He says.

Mary grins. “You'll be the first person I tell. Swear.”

“Well, that's good enough for me.”

She hugs him, and they stand together for a while.

Finally, Cresswell heaves a sigh. “Well, I think I'll head back up to the castle. Coming?”

“Can't, I'm meeting Lily and Marlene afterwards.”

He nods again. “See you later, Mary.”

She gives him a little wave— it dies once his back is turned, and she slumps, crumpling into herself, despondent.

“Where's Avery?”

Mary freezes at the sound of that horribly familiar voice, hurries around the side of the pub and crouches down behind some bins. Through a small gap between the bins and the wall, she can see them.

Mulciber and Snape are striding along the street, and they stop outside the Three Broomsticks to speak and light cigarettes.

“With a girl,” replies Snape sullenly.

Mulciber sneers. “Well, it is Valentines Day. I'm suprised to see you're not off with that Mudblood again... at least one of you has your priorities straight.”

“Right,” agrees Snape.

Mary clenches her jaw angrily.

“I just hope Avery doesn't let his... distractions... get in the way of our mission. Don't forget, we have another Blood Scrying tomorrow.”

Snape chews his bottom lip. “I don't know if I can get out of the school... the teachers are watching my every move now because of what I did to Potter.”

“Yes, it was reckless.” Mulciber says. “But they can't prove it was you. Still, exercise more caution in the future, though I can't deny it was—”

Mary loses her balance— she manages to stay upright, but a small shower of gravel is shaken loose from the pub wall.

“What was that?” Mulciber spins, peers suspiciously into the alley.

Mary closes her eyes in silent prayer, not daring to breathe.

“I didn't hear anything,” says Snape uncertainly.

“Something moved. Over there.” Mulciber moves forward, and Mary feels her bones turn to water.

Just then, a small rat darts out from the alley, scurries around the bins as if looking for food.

“Just a stupid rat. Let’s go.”

They move away, and Mary lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She stands up, dusting off her trousers.

“What are you doing?”

Mary jumps, hand flying to her wand, then away— it’s Peter Pettigrew, standing right in front of her.

“Blimey, Pettigrew, where'd you come from?” Mary says, trying to pretend her heart isn’t still racing.

“The Three Broomsticks. I thought you were here with Cresswell.”

Mary sighs. “I was, only...”

He gives her a sympathetic look. “Valentine's not going so well?”

“Not really.”

“You can come and sit with us, if you like.” Peter offers. “Maybe it'll distract Sirius and he'll forget to be sulky about James being off snogging Dorcas somewhere.”

Mary laughs. “Alright. Why isn't he off snogging someone? He's only the fittest bloke in our year, surely he could find some girl to go with.”

Peter shrugs. “Not really interested, I s'pose. Ungrateful bastard.”

He pushes the door open, they enter.

Sirius is at the bar, chatting up Rosmerta, who giggles at every other word he says.

Peter shakes his head. “See what I mean?”

“Don't worry, Peter, there's plenty of girls out there who actually have good taste.”

He grins at her as they sit down at the nearest booth.

“Oi, Sirius!” Peter calls, waves him over.

Sirius raises his glass of something definitely stronger than butterbeer to Rosmerta, then joins them.

“Oh hello, MacDonald.” He says cheerily. “Finally got bored of the Goblin Boy, didja?”

“No. Don't call him that.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

He takes a hearty sip of his drink, coughing slightly as it goes down.

“Is that firewhisky?” Asks Mary suspiciously. “Bit early, in’t it?”

Sirius ignores the question. “Any sign of Snape?” He asks, leaning forward towards Peter.

Peter is about to answer, but Mary speaks first.

“Yes, actually. I heard him talking to Mulciber outside the pub, just before Peter showed up.”

She leans forward too.

“Do either of you know what a Blood Scrying is?”

“No idea,” says Peter blankly.

“Sounds evil,” says Sirius.

“Well, I heard them talking about how they've got one going on tomorrow, with Avery. Oh, and Snape practically admitted to cursing James.”

“Like we didn't already know,” says Sirius.

Peter frowns. “Tomorrow? But it's—”

Sirius silences him with a glare.

Mary sits back. “Potter's with Dorcas, I suppose, but where's Lupin got to?”

“Didn't feel up to it,” Peter says.

“He's sick an awful lot, isn't he, poor thing... I thought it was his mum who was ill.”

Sirius waves impatiently. “It's a hereditary condition. Listen, MacDonald, we've got to try and figure out what a Blood Scrying is.”

“With those three, it can't be anything good.”

The door to the pub jangles and Marlene McKinnon enters. She spots Mary and hurries over.

“Oh, thank Merlin. I thought I was going to have to wait ages until you two were done with your dates.”

Sirius looks vaguely revolted. “I hate Valentines day,” he grumbles.

“Not too keen on it either, at the moment.” Marlene says.

Mary frowns. “Why, what happened?

“Nothing. I'll explain once Lily's here.”

She makes a face, stands up.

“I'll get the first round, shall I?”

“Order us another one of these, will you, McKinnon?” Says Sirius, holding up his empty glass as Marlene goes to the bar to order.

“How many have you had?”

“Not nearly enough,” says Sirius.

Mary laughs, shakes her head. “I'll have a look in the library. It's bad enough Snape got away with cursing Potter, they're not going to get away with this. Whatever it is.”

Sirius and Peter are grinning at her.

“What?” She says.

“Nothing,” says Peter. He and Sirius exchange amused looks.

Sirius claps her on the shoulder. “It's about time you stopped moping, is all.”

“Hark who's talking,” says Marlene, setting down the drinks.

“Sirius has always been moody, it doesn't count.” Peter points out.

“I thought you were s'posed to be on my side!”

“I was defending you!”

The door opens again and Lily enters, pink cheeked and content. She spies her friends and comes floating over.

“Someone looks cheery,” notes Mary.

“I had a wonderful time!”

“That makes one of us,” says Marlene glumly.

Lily's expression drops. “Oh, Marlene, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“It can't have been nothing—” Mary begins.

“It was exactly that! We had a lot of fun, came here, went to Zonko's, poked about the village, and that's it. Nothing. I don't fancy him.”

Lily sits next to Sirius, stares at Marlene as if she is mad.

“How can you not fancy him?”

Marlene shrugs, uncomfortable. “He's not my type I s’pose.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “Don't be silly, Marlene. He's everyone's type.”

“Well, not mine.”

“What is your type, then?”

“Not him.”

Mary lets out a sigh of frustration, but some sort of realisation has seemingly come upon Marlene.

“Well, maybe it's just as well.” Lily says, leaning in. “I hear he's still madly in love with his ex. They were together for three years, you know. That’s a long—”

“Is this all you girls ever talk about? Boys?” Sirius says with a snort.

For the first time, Lily truly registers their presence.

“Oh please,” she snaps. “Like you lot don't talk about girls all the time?”

“Actually, we don't.” Sirius says.

“Never,” agrees Peter.

“I find that hard to—”

She stops, because the door has jangled open once more and Severus enters, looking around as if he is searching for someone.

His eyes alight on Lily, then on Sirius at her side, and he flushes angrily, storms towards her.

Lily greets him curtly. “Sev.”

She stands up, looking no happier with him than he is with her.

He can barely get the words out. “What— what are you doing— with _them_?”

“Don't be stupid, I was just—”

“Oh, I'm _stupid_ now, am I?”

His voice has risen dramatically in both pitch and volume.

A hush has fallen around them, and half the pub is staring.

“It seems that way, at times!” Lily says angrily.

“I'm not the one who's getting cozy with the enemy!”

“Getting c— oh, honestly, Sev, I was just sitting next to him. So don't start. For your information, I've just been back from an actual date, and it was wonderful, thank you very much. You might try being happy for me for a change.”

He is totally thrown by this, hurt written plainly across his face. “But— who?”

 “Why do you care? Are you going to try and curse him as well? You could have killed Potter, I don't care how much of a stuck-up dickhead he is, after he saved your life and everything in December, that was really awful, horrible Dark Magic and you should be ashamed of yourself, Sev!”

Lily, very upset now, is not holding back. She's near-yelling at him.

“Precious Potter didn't die, did he?” Sneers Severus. “He's perfectly fine, isn't he? He deserved what he got, and now he and his friends are making my life a living hell. _He_ said so.”

He points a shaking hand at Sirius, who is watching interestedly as they shout over each other.

“I. Don't. Care. I don't hear you apologising, not ever, you never think about your own actions. It's always someone else's fault! Well I'm done apologising for you, you're sixteen now and you ought to take some responsibility—”

“Responsibility for what? How is it my fault they're always picking on me? They think they can do whatever they want to me and I'll just take it lying down, well I showed them I can fight back, they'll think twice about messing with me now—”

Lily balls her hands into fists. “Not everything is about bloody James Potter and his stupid friends!”

“News to me.” Sirius mutters to Peter, and they laugh.

Marlene and Mary are watching, wide-eyed, unsure what to do.

“You just don't know the truth about them, you'd look at them differently if you knew—”

“Knew what, exactly?” Lily is absolutely fuming, and so is he.

Severus takes a deep breath. “Your pal Lupin is—”

Sirius snarls and rises from his seat, but Severus stops talking.

Someone has a wand pressed to his throat.

James has entered, unnoticed, with Dorcas behind him. He hisses in Severus's ear.

“Not. Another. Word. Or we go straight to Dumbledore, you and me, right now.”

“Potter, let him go.” Snaps Lily. “This is none of your business.”

“That's where you're mistaken, Evans.”

Rosmerta has finally made her way over. “That's enough! No violence in my pub.”

James lowers his wand and shoves Severus away. “Sorry, Rosmerta. Carry on, everyone. Show's over.”

He and Severus stand, the hatred between them palpable.

When Severus speaks, it is quiet. Lily can barely make out what he’s saying.

“Tell them— tell the professors it wasn't me who cursed you. Or I tell everyone.”

“You wouldn't,” says James, livid.

“I'll be expelled either way. Try me.”

James, breathing hard, finally nods. “You're disgusting.”

Severus shrugs, looking satisfied with his small victory.

James shoves past him, ignoring Lily, and joins Peter and Sirius at the table. Dorcas follows him, shooting Lily a reproachful look.

“Sev, what was all that about?” Lily says worriedly.

“Nothing,” he snaps.

Lily looks at him, upset. “What's going on with you, Sev? I can tell, something's going on...”

“Nothing's going on, it's just them, like always. They've done nothing but harass me since we started at this school, and now you're having drinks with them like it's nothing.” He's muttering, she has to lean in to hear him. “I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”

Lily crosses her arms. “That's rich, coming from the one person who forgot my birthday this year.”

He stares at her, and all the fight goes out of him.

“I— I'm sorry—”

Lily turns away. “Just... leave me alone for a while, will you, Sev?”

He doesn't say anything else. She hears the door open, the wind whips around her briefly, then it slams shut loudly. Lily flinches.

Marlene and Mary have approached.

“Lily, are you—”

“I'm fine. I don't want to sit with them.”

Mary nods sympathetically. “Yeah, yeah, course not.”

Marlene goes to get their drinks, exchanging a glance with the boys.

“I've had it with him,” James says after she’s gone. “Had it. One more word about Remus and I'll snap, I swear it. I'll kill him.”

“But what's wrong with Remus?” Asks Dorcas, confused.

“Nothing!”

His response is overly aggressive: she flinches, looking hurt.

 “Snape just thinks he's vulnerable, because he's ill.” Peter explains. “So he picks on him when we're not around.”

“And bloody _Evans_ , defending him, even after everything. She's _unbelievable._ ”

Peter shrugs. “I dunno if she was defending him, she seemed pretty angry with him too.”

“But she's still his friend, isn't she? What's that git ever done to deserve her friendship? What does he have— why can't she see what he's really like?”

“Why are we always talking about Evans?” Sirius says, rolling his eyes. He's beginning to slur his words a little.

Dorcas frowns at this, watching James for a reaction.

“Personally,” says Sirius. “I don't care enough about the mysteries of her adolescent female psyche to try and delve into them right now. Fact is, Snape attacked you, and now he's making threats against Remus. Something's got to be done.”

“I know,” says James. He glares at Lily, and she glares right back.

“I’m going to the loo,” Marlene announces, sliding out of the booth and making her way across the pub. She pushes open the door to the ladies’ toilet.

Marlene turns the tap on, runs her hands under the cold water. Every surface of the room is covered with scribbles from Hogwarts students past and present.

She wipes at her face, regarding herself in the graffitied mirror and sighing.

A toilet flushes— Marlene turns, and sees Nicola exiting the stall.

Nicola sees her and freezes. Then, without a word, proceeds to the sink to wash her hands.

“Hey,” Marlene says uncertainly.

Nicola regards her. “How was your _date_?” She says sarcastically.

“It was... rubbish.” Marlene replies honestly.

Nicola looks at her, bemused.

“Yeah, I realised something.” Marlene says.

Nicola turns the tap off. “What's that, then?”

“I don't want Edgar Bones, Nicola, even if he is absolutely gorgeous and all that rot. I want you.”

Nicola looks at her, wide-eyed. “Well, I mean— are you— are you sure?”

Marlene laughs humourlessly. “No. But I can't help it, it's just how I feel.”

She takes Nicola's hand.

“I can’t help it either,” Nicola says quietly.

The door opens and they separate like they've been zapped.

Some giggling girls come in, and Marlene, with one last look back at Nicola, pushes past them to the door.

* * *

Later that evening, Mary can be found on the library floor, a stack of books in front of her.

She has one open in her lap and is running her finger down the index, the pages illuminated by wand light.

Lily comes around the corner, a lantern swinging from her grip. She sets it down on the table.

“Mary, there you are.” She says.

Mary looks up. “Alright, Lily? Feeling any better?”

Lily tries to pretend everything's fine. “Oh, you know. Shouldn't you get back? It's almost curfew, you know.”

Mary rubs her eyes, pushes the book off her lap. “Oh, right. I'm not finding anything, anyway.”

Lily peers at the stack of books, opens the top one and flips through it, frowning at an illustration of a mirror with a screaming face.

Lily closes it, concerned “What are you looking for?”

“You ever heard of something called Blood Scrying?” Asks Mary.

“No.”

“Me neither,” says Mary.

“What is it?”

Mary looks at her, determination building in her gaze. “I don't know... but I'm going to find out.”


End file.
